


On the Road to Recovery

by MonPetitTresor



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dean's in purgatory, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Evil Crowley, F/M, Family Bonding, Grief/Mourning, Healing, M/M, Mates, No Dean again, Physical Disability, Recovery, Self-Hatred, Serious Injuries, Torture, Triggers, blind!Sam, not really - Freeform, sorry - Freeform, sort of, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-26 02:03:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 36,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10777137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonPetitTresor/pseuds/MonPetitTresor
Summary: When Dean and Castiel gank Dick Roman, they vanish, and Crowley comes to take Kevin. Only, he takes Sam as well and teaches him that you don't dick around with the King of Hell. Without Dean there to protect his little brother, the demon is going to make damn sure that he never has to worry about the Winchesters again by whatever means necessary.Only, neither he nor Sam knew that the hunter had another little family out there, and this one is just as protective of him. They pull Sam out of there and rescue both him and Kevin, taking them somewhere that will be free to heal and recover.It's not going to be easy. Not only is Sam going to have to learn to live with his new disabilities, he's going to have to also learn to live without his brother. Can he do it? Or will the help of this newfound family not be enough to help pull him up out of the dark?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is complete, it's just being edited, so I thought I'd post the chapters as they finish. Enjoy, and don't forget to let me know what you think!

It was too dark – too cold –  _ too much _ . Sam Winchester curled in on himself and fought back the cries that wanted to bubble free. There was no point in them, he knew. No point in any sort of noise. They didn’t make things better. They didn’t make it  _ go away _ . Nothing made it go away. Nothing made it stop.

_ You’ve survived worse than this. You survived  _ Lucifer _ , you can survive some petty little jumped up demon who thinks he’s King. _

The thoughts didn’t make him feel any better. They didn’t make him feel any stronger. There was a large, broken part of Sam that wanted to cry out to his brother. That part of him wanted to beg Dean to come help him. To  _ save _ him. But there was no point in that, either. Dean wasn’t coming. Dean wouldn't ever come for him again. He was gone - lost right alongside Castiel in the blast that took out Dick Roman. He was gone and he was never going to come save Sam ever again.

The younger Winchester –  _ the only Winchester -  _ curled into even tighter of a ball. The cries and sobs he wanted to let free were locked behind his teeth but nothing could stop the silent tears streaming down his cheeks. The pain of his loss was worse than any of the pains currently burning through his body.

The blast when they’d ganked Dick Roman had been enormous. Sam hadn’t been sure he’d manage to survive it and he hadn’t been the one right up next to him. Yet somehow he’d managed to survive. When the blast had hit Sam had turned to protect Kevin,  _ needing _ to protect the innocent behind him, trusting that somehow Dean and Castiel would be okay. They were  _ always _ okay in the end. Even if it took a bit, they were always okay. But when the blast was done and he’d turned back around, there had been… nothing.

Sam pressed his face against the floor as his memory replayed those last moments. The moments where his world had ended - and a new sort of hell had begun.

“Sam, we need to go.” Kevin had said. Why hadn’t he listened to him?

No, Sam had been too  _ stupid _ , too lost in his grief, looking around the room as if somehow Dean would magically appear there. Not even Kevin’s warning of “More chompers on their way” was enough to stir him. Sam had continued to search, right up until something  _ had _ appeared in the room. Only it hadn’t been Dean.

It was Crowley.

“Not to worry.” Crowley said, that stupidly smug smirk on his face. He looked so casual standing there with his hands in his pockets.

“I have a small army of demons outside.” He’d said, strolling right up to Sam, still looking so calm and relaxed. “Cut off the head and the body will flounder, after all. Think if you’d had just one king since before the first sunrise. You’d be in a kerfuffle too.”

“Which is exactly what you wanted.”

“So did you. Without a master plan, the Levis are just another monster. Hard to stomp, sure. But you love a challenge.

“Where’s Dean?” Sam had demanded again.

“That bone... has a bit of a kick. God weapons often do. They should put a warning on the box.”

Sam could remember how enraged he’d been. How good the fury had felt and how it’d kept the grief from kicking in. It’d also kept his brain from paying enough attention, and he and Kevin had suffered the price for it. A snap of the fingers brought in demons right on either side of Kevin. Crowley had looked even more smug as he’d said “Sorry, Sam. Prophet’s mine.” But then - then his smirk had gone dangerous. Lethal in a way that Sam later learned he really should fear. “And so are you.”

So had begun Sam’s second stint at hell. It wasn’t as bad as his first round had been. Nothing could compare to Michael and Lucifer when they were at their most furious. Though Castiel had taken the crazy, Sam still had the memories. Still had the nightmares. What happened in the little room that Crowley snapped him away to would only add to those nightmares.

Without Dean in the way to protect Sam, it’d left him wide open for Crowley to do whatever he wanted with him without fear of reprisal. There was no one left in Sam’s life that was alive to care. No one left to come for him.

Sam had tried to be brave. Even as he’d been held down to a table by a group of demons and strapped in, he hadn’t freaked out. He hadn’t freaked out at the sight of the tray of weapons that Crowley had wheeled over to him. He’d tried to be brave, to be strong, just as Dean had always taught him to be. He’d even been cocky in a way that probably would’ve made Dean proud. “I withstood Lucifer and Michael for centuries.” Sam had told the demon. “You think I can’t handle you? You might as well kill me and get it over with.”

“Oh, darling. I’m not going to kill you.” Grinning, Crowley had reached over to the little cart at his side and picked up something that Sam hadn’t recognized. The grin that the demon had worn as he’d looked at Sam was enough to make him shiver even in his memories. There’d been hate there. Not just the anger all demons held, but true  _ hate _ . “I won’t kill you.” He’d repeated. “But by the time I’m done, trust me, you’re never going to hunt again.”

What had come next was something that would only add to the nightmares Sam already suffered from.

Centuries at the hands of Michael and Lucifer had taught Sam quite a bit about pain. All the different types of it, all the ways it could be administered, and just how much his body was capable of taking. Sam knew his pain limits better than he ever had before. He knew how much he could take before he passed out and how much he could take before his body simply gave into it. This had been nowhere near that. And yet, somehow, it was so much worse.

What Crowley did wasn’t pain caused simply for enjoyment, though he had no doubt Crowley truly enjoyed it. Nor was it pain that was meant to be studied. This was pain with a purpose – one that terrified Sam more than the act itself. He knew what Crowley hoped to accomplish here just as he knew there was nothing he could do to stop it. All he could do was struggle against the bonds that held him and scream until it felt like his throat bled from it.

“You boys should’ve listened to me.” Crowley had said as he’d bent down over Sam’s face. “It’s about time you learned what happens when you piss off the King of Hell.” That said, he’d lifted his hand and held out two fingers, laying one each over Sam’s eyes, and the pain was like liquid agony pouring right into his skull.

When Sam came to, he’d been in this little room, the same room he was lying in now. The room that he’d occupied now for who knew how long. His body had been aching and bleeding and broken in far too many places. But it wasn’t those that had scared Sam. He’d dealt with broken bones before. He’d fought himself out of horrible situations with broken bones and bruises. Those, he could handle.

What scared him, what truly  _ terrified  _ him, was the fact that he was met with nothing but darkness when he opened his eyes. And not the darkness of a room with no lights. True, real darkness, with no hint of lights or shapes or anything. No amount of lying there with his eyes opened had changed it. He hadn’t adjusted to the darkness. Even when they came for him later, when he heard the door open and knew they were walking in, there had still been nothing.

Crowley had said he was going to make sure Sam was never going to hunt again. He’d lived up to his promise.

After all - how could he hunt if he was blind?

* * *

Time lost all meaning. Why they kept him alive, he had no idea. Crowley could’ve easily just killed him and put them all out of their misery. But he seemed to enjoy Sam’s torment far too much for that to happen. Every now and again demons would come for him and they’d drag Sam out of his little room and into another room, some place he didn't know and couldn’t get his bearings in, and they’d play their games. They’d hurt him and laugh at him. Play around by shoving him here and there, forcing him to try and function beyond the pain and the darkness.

Other times he’d find himself strapped down to the table and cut with a knife that burned in a way the logical part of his brain knew meant it wasn’t a simple knife. A demon knife, maybe? Or a cursed blade? He’d been cut accidentally by a cursed blade when he was sixteen. He still had the scar on his arm and the memory of the burn of it was one he’d never forgotten. This was a lot like that.

A voice in Sam’s head whispered to him how pointless it was to fight. It told him that he was never getting out of here - that he was going to be stuck here until Crowley tired of his newest pet. But that voice was drowned out over and over by the voice of Dean telling him he damn well better not give up.  _ “Don’t you dare, Sammy! Don’t you dare give up. Just hang on, little brother. Pay attention. They’ll slip up sometime, and when they do, you run, you hear me? Aint no shame in running when the odds are against you. You get your opportunity and you freaking  _ run _.” _

_ I can’t run, _ he wanted to tell that voice.  _ I don’t even know where I am. Where would I run? _

Still, even as the pain grew, even as his screams filled the room, the voice of Dean in his head just wouldn’t let him give up. Sam kept waiting, even as his hope dwindled a little more with each passing day.

* * *

Not too far away, a prophet bent his head and prayed as he listened to the sounds of Sam’s screams.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam wasn’t sure how long he’d been here. He had no idea how much time had passed. They’d left him alone for a while, it felt like. A day, maybe? It was the best he could guess. He knew he could be off. Here, just like in the Cage, time was hard to gauge. There was nothing to alert him to the passage of time. There was just the torture and the times between where he could rest.

It looked like his resting time was about to come to an end, though. There were strange sounds outside of his little room. Not for the first time, Sam found himself wondering what was going on out there. What were they doing? More than that - where was Kevin?

Thoughts of Kevin tortured Sam during some of his moments of downtime. They’d taken him at the same time they’d taken Sam and he had no idea what they’d done with him. Were they hurting him like they’d hurt Sam? No, no, they couldn't be. He was a prophet. Heaven would probably come down in a full force smiting for Kevin. Plus, if he was hurt the way that Sam was hurt, he wouldn’t be able to do anything, and it wasn’t hard to picture what a group of demons would have a prophet doing. Kevin was the only one that could translate tablets and Crowley was just the sort of power-hungry demon to want to know what all of them said.

The strange sounds outside the room grew a little closer and Sam went tense. He wasn’t ready for them to come back yet. They’d healed some of the damage done to him - not a lot, but some. But his body still felt too broken, too achy, and he didn’t know if he could take another session with them.

When he heard the door open he grit his teeth and tried to brace himself. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of cowering away from them like a kicked dog.

Only, instead of Crowley's smooth British voice, or the mocking tones of the other demons, there was another voice, one that Sam didn’t recognize.

“Oh…” That single word was said in a deep voice, trailing off into a language that Sam thought he almost recognized, but couldn’t place. He could guess what the words were by the tone, though. Cursing carried the same sort of tone no matter the language.

Sam pushed himself up against the wall, palms flat on the ground, and he opened sightless eyes. Only, to his absolute shock he found he wasn’t _sightless._ At least not in the sense he was used to. He still couldn’t see the surrounding room. He couldn’t see the walls or the floor or the door or any real physical shapes. But right there in front of him he could see the strangest sort of _light_.

The more he looked, the more clear it became until he could make out the fact it wasn’t one light - it was three. One of them, the biggest, was this greenish brown light that almost held a shape, yet sort of didn’t. He wasn’t sure how to explain it. But the light, it made him think of, well, of the earth. Something natural and earthy and yet potentially dangerous. Beside it was a long and thin light that looked sort of compacted down into a space Sam could tell was too small for it. This light was different - a dark blue with hints of green twisted through it. The last light was shrouded by the other two, right up until it suddenly rushed towards him at the same time he heard a voice cry “Sam!”

The light seemed like it should be familiar somehow. It was almost like a person - or like an aura _around_ a person. Like… like a hint of grace radiating off of someone.

Instinct had Sam jerking backwards from it. What the hell was going on here? Even as he thought it, his mind was racing, cataloging that voice and coming up with… “Kevin?”

The word came out a hoarse croak that probably failed utterly at being a proper word. Still, Kevin – _that light, that was_ Kevin _? That aura of grace belonged to Kevin? -_ must’ve understood. That light reached Sam and dropped down beside him. “Oh, God, Sam, look at you. Oh man, oh man, oh man.”

“Kevin.” Sam cleared his throat. God, it hurt to talk! “How… how’re you…”

“We gotta get you outta here, Sam.” Kevin said, his hands closing over Sam who couldn’t help but jump at the unexpected touch. “There’re these guys, I don’t know who the hell they are, but they took out the demons and they say they’re here to help.”

Yeah, because that ever went well. Whoever these two were, there was power to them, a type of power he didn’t know and yet somehow felt he should recognize. He definitely didn’t trust it, though.

Those other lights moved and Sam jerked his head in that direction. He didn’t have to ask, didn’t have to voice his skepticism. A low, silky voice, with just a hint of a hiss to it, suddenly said “We’re wasting time here. We’ll explain everything when we’re out of here. For now – he’s not going to be able to walk, _bróðir_.”

“Yeah, I know.” The other light said. It came forward, moving towards Sam. “I know you’re confused, Sam. I promise you’ll get answers. We’re not here to hurt you, we just want to help.”

“Who are you?” Sam asked, trying for firm and failing.

“Friends.” One voice said, even as the other said “Family.”

“They’re here to help, Sam.” Kevin’s voice was pitched low, right by Sam’s head, and his hand was on Sam’s shoulder. “I promise, they’re here to help. I know you don’t wanna trust them but we need to get out of here _now_.”

“I can get you out of here.” That deep voice spoke again, drawing Sam’s attention to it as the light came even closer. There was the sound of softer footsteps. But… not just two? Sam furrowed his brow as the light, thing, got right up by him. “This is going to hurt, Sam, and I’m sorry, but we can’t waste any more time.” With no more warning than that, the other light was suddenly right there beside him and cool hands were wrapping around Sam and lifting him with a strength far too much to be human. Sam fought back the urge to scream as pain flayed his insides. He barely noticed at first when he was laid down on something soft. It was only as that soft thing started to move that he made himself focus.

His hands protested loudly as he forced his fingers to curl in against whatever it was he was lying on. The thing was moving, making him ache more and more, and he knew he could be lost underneath it if he wasn’t careful. So instead he tried to focus on what the hell _it_ was. What was he lying on? Was that… was that _fur_?

 _I’m lying on a dog_ his brain thought, rather unhelpfully. It wasn’t possible that someone of his size could lay on a dog and not squish it or even have his limbs dragging on the floor. Yet that’s exactly what it felt like. That felt like fur under his cheek and in his hands. He was lying on top of some giant dog like it was a pony, face buried in what he would bet was the scruff of its neck, and just barely was he managing to stay on it. He had a feeling it was only the hand flat against his back that helped him to keep his seat.

The body under his tensed and muscles shifted in a way that had Sam trying - and failing - to prepare for what was coming. The next second he felt the leap as they must've gone into the air. As they came back down, Sam’s body jolted hard against this one, and the world sort of whited out for a moment from the pain. He didn’t feel the hand on his back move to steady him or hear the cursing around him. The only thing that broke through the roaring in his ears was a furious hiss of “Move, move! We’re almost through the barrier!”

The next thing Sam knew, the power around him grew, lifting up and wrapping around them all. Sam only had time for a hoarse shout before everything around him changed. The body he was on gave another jump and the impact as it landed was just too much for Sam. He couldn't even fight it off as unconsciousness came in and swept him under.

* * *

It was becoming startlingly commonplace to pass out to darkness and pain and to wake up to the very same thing. Sometimes Sam thought to himself that it was scary what one could get used to. Pain had become an almost constant companion for him anymore. What _wasn’t_ normal was the softness that he found himself lying on. Not in any of his memories – not these with Crowley, not of the Cage, not of _anything_ – had him waking up from pain to this kind of softness underneath him. The only time that had happened was when Dean rescued him. Even then, it hadn’t been this kind of softness. There would be the slightly scratchy feel of motel bedding and always, _always_ , the sound of his brother somewhere close by. Breathing, talking, something to let Sam know from the minute he woke up that Dean was there.

But that wasn’t possible this time. Dean was… Dean was _gone_. That knowledge sat in Sam like a lead stone he knew he wouldn’t be able to get rid of. There was no moment where he could forget that his brother was gone.

He pushed past it with practiced effort, shoving it down until it wasn’t gone but it was manageable. Then he turned his focus to the softness underneath him and trying to somehow place it without his sight to help him.

A little curl of his fingers and a miniscule shifting of his face told him that, yes, those were sheets underneath him. Sinfully wonderful sheets. It was a good guess that he was on a bed of some sort. Only, why? And how? More than that – whose bed? He didn’t know anyone that could afford something this soft or wonderful. Anymore, he didn’t really know _anyone_.  He was alone. Always alone.

There was no chance for the loneliness to grow. Sam suddenly felt something, a hint of a spark at the edge of his mind, and it was strange enough to have him snapping open sightless eyes, the instinct to look still too strong in him to ignore. It was instinct to try and look and see what was around him. His new world of darkness was all that he found. At least, at first. Just seconds after he opened his eyes there was a sound – _a door, that’s a door opening –_ and then Sam sucked in a breath when something made of light came into his world. The sight of that human shaped light was enough to clear the last of the cobwebs and jog Sam’s memory. Kevin coming in to his cell, the two strangers, the giant dog, riding away to freedom. Oh, God. Was he free? Was he really free?

“Sam!” Kevin’s voice carried heavy notes of something Sam thought might be relief. His light came close, fast, and Sam fought not to scramble back from it. He felt the bed shift underneath him and then Kevin was right there, right up close, and Sam couldn’t help it this time. Though it hurt to do, he scooted his body away from that light that was so bright it felt – _ha_ – blinding.

The light stopped and then drew carefully back. “Woah, Sam, it’s okay. It’s just me, Kevin. You’re safe, man. All right? You’re safe, I promise.”

“Where am I?” Sam croaked out. That seemed like an important question. One he should care about.

“You’re in my father’s home.” Another voice said. It had Sam jerking his head up. Another of those lights that he remembered was walking into the room. The light that belonged to a being on… four legs? The dog. The talking dog.

Sam’s stomach clenched and he curled his aching hands in against the bedding, not even caring how much it hurt to do so. “Who are you?”

The dog came closer, not hesitating to make his way right up to the bedside and sit himself down. He was close enough now that Sam could see details about that light just a little bit more than before. It wasn’t enough to give him any features, really. Just an outline of a shape. Instead of a vague earthy light, it had honest shape to it now that was much clearer than the one he remembered. That was good, but it brought home just how massive this animal was. He had to be, of course, for Sam to have _ridden him_ , but lying here now staring at him it really brought it home. This canine like creature was huge and obviously something supernatural. He’d be able to do anything to Sam and there was nothing the hunter would be able to do to stop it.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” The dog, thing, said to him. His voice was a low and rough rumble that carried a hint of a growl to it. Then he stunned Sam completely when he continued on to say “My name is Fenrir and I promise, you’re safe here.”

Fenrir. _Fenrir_. Sam knew that name. In their line of work it paid to know mythology. He knew exactly who Fenrir was. He wasn’t just some large supernatural dog – he was a wolf. The freaking great wolf that was prophesized to one day kill Odin in Ragnarok, the Norse version of the apocalypse. He had a brother, Jörmungandr, and a sister, Hel, and was the child of _Loki_.

Loki.

Even though it didn’t have the same effect it once did, Sam couldn’t help but close his eyes. Thinking of the archangel he had once hated, and who he had once thought he might grow to truly care for, brought on the same pain it always did. He and Gabriel hadn’t been dating when the archangel had met his end at Elysian Fields. However, Sam had come to recognize the flirting in their encounters – and on both sides, too. He’d even been able to admit to himself how interested he’d been and how, if Gabriel truly joined their side, he wouldn’t mind testing the waters a little. But then Lucifer had happened, and Gabriel was gone, and Sam went to hell. He tried not to let himself think about what might have been.

It wasn’t as easy now as he was faced with the man’s child. _Children_ , he realized. Because he remembered vaguely while back at that place that one of the lights that had saved him had called the other one _bróðir_. If Sam were right, that meant _brother_ , and the only brother he could think of was Jörmungandr. He’d been rescued by Loki’s children and, from what Fenrir said, brought to his house. To Loki’s house.

Sam didn’t have time to wrap his mind around any of that before Fenrir was speaking again. “I’m so sorry it took us so long to find you, Sam. I wish we could’ve gotten there sooner.”

This was proving to be just one shock after the next. “You were trying to find me?” Sam croaked out. “ _Why_?” Not that he didn’t appreciate the help! It just… it didn’t make sense.

“Because our father asked us to watch over you if anything happened to him.” Fenrir answered bluntly, stunning Sam even more. He spoke like it was the most normal thing in the world. “And we’ve done a horrible job at it so far. We weren’t able to get to you before you threw yourself in the Cage, and we didn’t know that you’d been pulled out. It wasn’t until after the Leviathan were set free that we even knew you were alive again. We’ve tried to do our best by you since then. The minute you were lost, we started searching for you.” There was a pause and then a low sigh that carried a hint of a growl to it. “I’m sorry it took so long.”

This – this was _insane_. This whole thing was insane. Gabriel had asked them to look after him? But, but _why_? Why would he do that? Why would they _agree_? It didn’t make any sense! Sam’s body tensed and he didn’t notice that his breathing had sped up. Not until the bed shifted and Sam’s attention was jerked over to Kevin, who reached out to carefully lay a hand on his shoulder. “Sam, man, you gotta calm down. You’re hyperventilating. You need to calm down and _breathe_.”

A wheezy, slightly hysterical laugh broke free. Breathe? Kevin wanted him to just calm down and breathe? Like it was that simple! His whole life was insane. His brother was gone, Cas was gone, Crowley had kidnapped him, he’d been tortured and freaking _blinded_ , and now suddenly he found out that he’d been rescued by Loki’s kids who were apparently his guardians because their father, who was secretly the archangel Gabriel, had asked them to watch over a human that he’d both tortured and flirted with. Where on earth did any of that make any sense at all?

The bed dipped suddenly under a rather large amount of weight. Sam looked to his other side and found that Fenrir’s light was even closer. In fact, if Sam had to guess he’d say that the wolf had lifted his front half up on to the bed. That was confirmed the next second when a massive, furry head started nudging gently at Sam’s arms. His brain told him to pull away from the touch – the rest of him seemed to not have gotten that memo, though. His aching hands were reaching out, arms shifting and body rolling, until he found himself curled up against the scruff of Fenrir’s neck, one arm slung over him and his whole body leaning in to the touch.

“Woah, hey…!” Kevin exclaimed somewhere behind him.

The bed dipped a little more and Sam just knew that Fenrir was settling his weight. His head curved around so that his throat and chin were against Sam’s back, putting his face towards Kevin’s light. “Let him be.” Fenrir said, the words rumbling under Sam, soothing in such a strange way he couldn’t help but press in closer, burying his face even more against that fur. His breath was still coming in panicked gasps and his hands clenched down into the fur. Fenrir didn’t move, though. He made a rumbling, growly sort of noise and then continued to speak, apparently in response to something from Kevin that Sam had missed. “You humans – I’ll never understand you. More than anything in the world you crave positive touch, especially when hurt or upset, and it’s usually the one thing you deny yourselves. You act like every touch has to be bad or based in sex. Friends can’t even hug one another without it being treated like it’s about sex. Sam’s been through more than any human being should have to, and that was before everything with Crowley. If a hug makes him feel better, who are you or anyone else to judge?”

There was a pause in which Sam swore he could feel the discomfort in the air. Part of him wanted to speak up and insist that he didn’t _need_ a hug. He was a Winchester! He’d been raised to be stronger than this! Only, the fact that he couldn’t pull away, and was actually cuddling in closer, would’ve showed those words for the lie they were.

Kevin made a pained sort of sound, low down in his throat. “I wasn’t judging him. I just… I mean… should he be moving like that? With all… that?”

“Probably not.” Fenrir said simply. “But it’s what he needs.”

There was no telling how long they stayed there like that. Being curled in against Fenrir was soothing in ways that reminded Sam of curling up with his brother when he was a kid. That sense of strength and safety. Of knowing that there was nothing and no one that could get to him while he was curled up against someone who was bigger, stronger, and who could – and would – protect him. That feeling helped to fight off the panic attack that had gripped him. Slowly but surely his breathing evened out and his hands unclenched from Fenrir’s fur.

When Sam, cheeks red with embarrassment, began to pull back, he found cool hands there to help him. Hands that most definitely didn’t belong to Kevin. He didn’t have time to wonder before he heard that voice again, the one that belonged to the other light. The smaller, compacted one. “Gently, Samuel.” That voice – Jörmungandr, his brain told him, that was who it had to be! – spoke gently to him. His hands were careful as they slid around Sam and helped to cradle him, taking most of his weight as he started to lean back. “Let me take your weight. Just lay against my hands… there you are.”

The pain that was waking up in him now that the panic was gone was the only thing that kept Sam from saying anything. The being helping him got him laid back against a mound of pillows that eased his aching a little.

As he was settled and those hands moved away, Sam was able to turn his head towards that light, to take it in a little bit more. The shape was definitely that of a man. Only, he knew better. He could _feel_ the difference. “You…. You’re…”

“Call me Jor.” The man, Jor, interrupted. The way his accent curled around the nickname made it sound like ‘your’. There was a wry note to his voice as he added “Humans tend to mutilate my name, especially without the proper accent. Just Jor works fine.”

This was all quickly making its way towards too much. Just, too much to process all at once. He needed a second to think. To _breathe._ Only, he knew he wouldn’t be able to. Not until he had the answers he needed. Sam was too much of a hunter to just give in. No matter how tempting it was or how badly he wanted to just lie down and sleep in a place that was apparently safe. They’d rescued him, after all. Even if it was for reasons he didn’t understand and wasn’t sure he even believed. Sam wanted nothing more than to try and go back to sleep and hopefully wake up in a world where things started to make sense again. Only, he couldn’t. Not without at least knowing some important things.

When he tried to shift around and get more comfortable, relax his body a little so that he might be able to get through asking questions, he was stopped by hands and a wolf head. “Be still.” Fenrir rumbled at him. From the other side of Sam—and where on earth had Kevin gone to?—Jor added on to that admonishment. “You have serious injuries, Samuel, and you’ve pushed yourself quite a bit already. You need to heal.”

“How bad is it?” Sam asked, not really wanting the answer but knowing that he needed to know. It was what Dean would demand to know. He’d want to know how long it would be before he was in fighting shape again. _Only, this time there’s no fighting shape for me. Not ever again._

If either of these beings could read his thoughts, they didn’t show it. They didn’t react to what he was thinking. Fenrir answered his question in a calm, steady voice, his head still pinning Sam down. “A lot of broken bones, burns, cuts, all your standard injuries in torture. Aside from the vision loss, which Kevin overheard the demons talking about, the most serious of your injuries that we might not be able to help with are a cut on your left hip that leads down towards your thigh, and two on your back. We believe they were made with a cursed blade, so there’s no telling how they’re going to heal.”

“I don’t feel them.” Sam felt compelled to say. He didn’t really feel them in the mix of his general achiness.

He saw Jor’s light shift in a way that made him think the man was shaking his head. “You wouldn’t. We’ve got you on morphine right now. Without that, you’d be in a lot more pain, I assure you.”

The exhaustion that Sam had been fighting came back tenfold. He closed his eyes, even though it was pointless to have even had them open to begin with, and his body sagged into the bed. He was somewhere that was supposedly safe, Kevin was here and all right, and there was nothing that Sam could do even if things went wrong. He was injured, blind, and drugged on top of it. Once again, things were happening around him, things he had no control over. It was kind of terrifying just how used to that sensation he’d become. When had it become so commonplace for him to have no control or choice in his life? Him, who had fought so hard for that very thing once upon a time. When had he given up on it?

Those questions chased Sam down into sleep. He never felt the bed shift, nor the blankets that were settled over him.


	3. Chapter 3

The next time that Sam woke wasn’t any easier. They hadn’t been lying about how injured his body was. Apparently neither Jor nor Fenrir were capable of healing. They knew tricks to help things out, and Jor was a rather good doctor, Sam could admit. Still, his body had to heal on its own, and to do that he had to rest. For the next few days that seemed like all that he did. Anytime he was actually awake, someone was feeding him and then he was getting his next round of medicine and being sucked back down into sleep.

It wasn’t until a week had gone by that Sam finally woke somewhat clearheaded. The first thing that he noticed was that he didn’t feel as drugged as he usually did. The next was that he was actually hungry. Though he’d been eating when directed, he hadn’t felt hungry so far. He recognized that feeling in his stomach, though.

Sam lay on the bed he’d first woken up in and took a second to just lay there and think. For the first time in what felt like a long time, he was able to just _think_.

The darkness that had been lingering over his thoughts since his brother’s death wasn’t as heavy as it had been. Sam relished in that feeling. He didn’t feel as much like he was drowning anymore. He felt like maybe, just maybe, he could breathe a little bit. More than anything else going on right now, it was the pain of losing his brother that was the strongest. It tore at his insides and left him feeling broken and shattered.

He’d always thought that he’d accept it if Dean died in a somewhat normal way. Heart attack, car accident, something like that. But stabbing a leviathan and vanishing along with the monster and an angel? There was nothing normal about that. Not even in their crazy world. He had no idea if Dean was dead or alive. Was he lost somewhere? Was he waiting for Sam to come and get him back?

If he was, he was going to be waiting for a long time. What good was Sam to him now? He wouldn’t be able to help at all. He wasn’t going to be able to hunt while blind and injured, and he sure as hell couldn’t do his usual research binge. There was nothing that he could do.

He was useless.

_So, what, that mean you’re just gonna sit here on your ass and give up, Sammy?_

The sound of his brother’s voice had Sam wincing. Sam had once joked with Jess, a long, long time ago, that everyone said they had a voice in their head that pointed out when they were doing something wrong, or something stupid, but that his voice had never belonged to him. No, that voice in his head had always been Dean’s voice, telling him when he was being stupid and pushing him when he wanted to give up. Always. His brother was the standard that Sam had always tried, and failed, to hold himself up to. The one person he wanted to be like. And the one person who was never afraid to tell Sam when he was doing something stupid, but also put him up when he was doing something right, and be there to support him through every single bit of it.

This time, the voice was pointing out his stupidity, and it was exactly what Dean would say to him, he knew, and Sam wanted to argue it, to point out how damn tired he was, how his exhaustion felt like it ran soul deep. Finding Dean would be hard enough without being hindered by all… _this_. How was he supposed to do it now?

 _Suck it up and quit whining_ , that voice told him. _We always find a way. But you’re not gonna find one just lying here feeling sorry for yourself. Now quit whining and get up, Samantha!_

Sam swallowed down the lump in his throat and squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them again, the world was just as dark, but that darkness wasn’t as heavy. The mental pep talk had pushed it back at least for a little while.

Lying here in bed was doing him no good. Not mentally, at least. His body was healing but the rest of him wasn’t going to get the chance for it. Not unless he got up and tried to do _something_. At the moment even just walking out of this room was going to be an accomplishment. From there, he could start to try and figure out what he could do to find his brother. He wasn’t alone here. Though he still wasn’t sure about Fenrir and Jor, and why they were really helping him, he knew that Kevin at least would help and was someone he could trust.

If he was going to get up, it meant he needed to take better stock of himself than he had so far. The broken bones that Jor had mentioned were the most important. They were the ones that were going to hinder him the most. As Sam pushed himself up in bed, he let himself feel all the pain he’d been trying to ignore before. Pain that the drugs had muted.

There was a pain in his ribs that was way too familiar. _Well, there’s some of the broken bones._ Healing, yes, but they’d be quite a pain until they finally did. No wonder sitting up was so painful, as he quickly discovered when he pushed himself up in bed and began his inventory, beginning at his toes and working his way up. What he found by the time he was done had him sighing. A few broken toes on his right foot that he really couldn’t do much about except be extremely careful of, some bruising on his foot that was still tender enough he was glad he’d had a week to rest it, some broken ribs, three broken fingers on his left hand and two on his right, and he was pretty sure his left wrist was either broken or badly sprained. And those were just the bones. He found countless other bruises and cuts, but like Jor had said, those were pretty standard for torture.

_Pretty sad when you’ve been through enough torture to consider some of it ‘standard’._

The ones that worried him were the cuts that Jor had mentioned before. He couldn’t feel the ones on his back, and twisting to try and touch them was an experience in pain he was _not_ willing to try again, but the one on his hip that went down towards his thigh, he could feel that one, and what he found made his empty stomach roll. It was on the left side and started in the front in that little hollow right by his hip bone, drawing overtop the bone and over to the outside of his hip before curving down towards his leg.

The cut itself felt like it was well on its way to healing, but the scar it’d left behind – yeah, it’d been a cursed blade that caused it. Sam remembered this cut happening.; the blade had felt so thin and sharp, slicing through his skin like butter and burning hotter than fire. The cut should’ve been paper thin instead of this thick, heavy mark that Sam’s fingers ghosted over. He could only imagine how it looked.

All in all there were a lot of injuries to deal with, but not as bad as it could’ve been. _You’ve dealt with worse._ He reminded himself. Crowley had favored the more personal and internal methods of making Sam scream. He’d used his powers, his blood, plenty of things to burn Sam from the inside out for _hours._ The injuries done to his body on the outside? Those were nothing. He’d been tortured plenty of times before and hadn’t even had the luxury afterwards of being able to curl up in bed for a week and rest with the good meds in his system. All those other times he’d managed to get into the Impala and go. To keep hunting. If he could do all that, he could get up out of this bed and find his way towards the kitchen to get his own meal this time.

He’d already made it upright – that was half the battle. Next he just had to slowly slide his legs over to the side and then down off the bed. His right leg was easy enough to slide down. The broken toes and bruises ached like a bitch as he set his foot down, making him suck in a sharp breath, but he held still and gave himself a moment to adjust to it. This wasn’t the first time he’d broken toes. Hell, he’d broken toes _and_ bones in his foot before! This was nothing compared to walking on that.

However, when he tried to move his left leg down, he had figured it’d be just the bruises he could feel inside and out that would be the hardest part. He hadn’t taken into account the kind of pain his hip would give him, or the damage that cursed blade had caused when it cut him. White hot agony exploded over Sam’s hip and all the muscles there seized up while the nerves felt like they were being electrified and set on _fire_.

He might’ve pitched right off the bed in a haze of agony if hands hadn’t suddenly caught him. Sam found his head being pillowed against a slender stomach while one hand pressed gently against his back and another braced his shoulder.

“You stubborn, stupid idiot.” A voice was hissing right by Sam’s head. He absently took note of the fact that there was an actual hiss to those words, the ‘s’ stretched longer in a way that made it very clear just who held him. “Dad was right, you are the most stubborn human I’ve ever met! What were you thinking, trying to get out of bed alone? Dammit, Samuel.” No matter how furious the voice sounded, the hands on him were gentle as they held him, and they stayed gentle as the one rubbed over his back. Then he was speaking again, his voice directed to someone else. “I need your human hands, brother. I need you to lift his feet while I lay him down.”

Lift his feet? No, that sounded like a terrible idea! Sam couldn’t imagine how much it was going to hurt. More than that, he’d been trying to get up! Laying him down would make the pain he was feeling right now pointless.

Thankfully, Sam wasn’t forced to try and find his voice so he could protest. Someone else did it for him.

“No, I don’t think that’s what he needs.” Fenrir said.

Another hiss came from Jor. “He needs to rest!”

“No. He needs to _heal_ , which is something that’s not going to happen if you keep him secluded back here. I didn’t drag him out of that cage just to place him in another one, Jor!”

The next thing Sam knew, the hands on him were moving and he felt Fenrir press right up close, his arms nudging Jor’s out of the way. “It’s all right, Sam. I want you to take a deep breath for me, all right. This is going to hurt.”

Sam was pretty sure he knew what Fenrir was going to do. He drew in a deep breath and locked his teeth together. As soon as he did, human hands were lifting him up like he was a child, one arm behind his back and one sliding under his legs, and he found himself pulled up against a firm, solid chest. The pain screamed to life inside of him and Sam had to battle to make sure it didn’t cause him to scream out loud as well. His hands came up and clutched at Fenrir. Unfortunately, the man wasn’t wearing a shirt, so that meant Sam’s hands scrambled to cling around his neck instead. It didn’t seem to bother the man at all. He murmured lowly to Sam as they began to move.

It took only a short bit that felt like an eternity before they came to a stop. Then, Fenrir was gently lowering Sam down onto something soft. _The couch_ , his brain told him. _This is the couch._

“Deep breaths, Sam.” Fenrir gently coached him through it, helping Sam to find his breath through the pain once more. It helped in getting him calm. Though, as much as Sam hated to admit it, it didn’t help anywhere near as much as when Jor settled down at Sam’s hip, told him “Here, if you’re going to be stubborn, this’ll help” and then pulled down the edge of his boxers, giving him a shot directly into the most painful spot.

It took another five minutes before Sam was able to sigh and relax himself down into the cushions of the couch. When it became clear that Sam was finally all right again, Jor pushed up to his feet. “Stay there.” He said firmly, his tone making it clear he expected Sam to listen. Then he spun and stalked off towards the kitchen.

When Sam turned to face Fenrir once more, he found the light around the man was sort of...rippling. Something in Sam wanted to say it was from amusement. It _felt_ like amusement. Only, as soon as he had that thought, he banished it. There was no way he could _feel_ someone’s amusement.

“Don’t mind him.” Fenrir said, the light shifting so that Sam got a clear outline of him waving a hand his brother’s direction. “You don’t have to worry about his temper until he starts hissing his s’s for at least four seconds. That’s when you’ve hit the danger zone.”

Almost against his will, Sam found his lips twitching. It was starting to sink in a little that these two actually were brothers. He knew the stories, the mythology, and he’d logically known that they were brothers from the instant he’d learned who they were, but this? This showed it in a way he hadn’t quite seen so far. Their interactions were making it real. These two were brothers. Loki’s sons. _Gabriel’s_ sons.

Thinking of him brought a familiar clench to Sam’s heart. His thoughts of Gabriel were always tinged with guilt and regret, as well as a hint of wishing for something that might’ve been. Something that he’d been too afraid to even think of exploring until long after it’d been taken away from him. This time, thoughts of Gabriel also brought to mind other things, other questions and for the first time Sam felt awake and coherent enough to be able to ask them and pay attention to the answers. He lifted his chin and focused on the light that was Fenrir, all signs of mirth gone. “Why are you guys doing this?”

Fenrir didn’t bother trying to give Sam the same answer he had last time. He must’ve seen that it wasn’t going to work anymore. Sam needed more than that. He needed to know. To understand. None of this was making sense to him.

There was no way Sam could’ve prepared himself for the first thing that Fenrir said, though. “We don’t blame you for what happened to Dad, Sam.”

“W-What?”

The shock in his tone was easy to hear. It had Fenrir’s light brightening from the darker earthy tones to a lighter green for a moment. The man shifted so that he was sitting on the floor near the end of the couch where Sam’s head was. “We don’t blame you for what happened to Dad. He made that choice, Sam. He knew there was a good possibility he wouldn’t live and he still made that choice. So, no, we don’t blame you for it, and it doesn’t change a thing for us. Dad cared about you more than any other human out there, and that’s all that we need to know.”

Footsteps came from the kitchen and Sam looked up to find Jor coming towards them. He reached out towards Sam when he got close and told him “I brought you tea.” Then he held still, waiting as Sam carefully reached out, and when Sam got close Jor pressed the mug gently into his grip, making it easier for him to take hold of it. Only when Sam had the mug on his own did Jor sit down. Where he sat and the height he was at suggested there was a chair, or maybe a coffee table that he was sitting on. Once he was settled, he spoke again. “Fen’s right, Sam. Look at it this way. Even with as much as you fought with your Dad, if he asked you to watch over someone important to him before he died, wouldn’t you do it?”

When he put it like that… Sam carefully curled his hands around the mug that Jor had given him. He focused on trying to hold it. It felt lighter than expected and none of it splashed up to his hands, even though they continued to shake. The fact that he was grateful it wasn’t full made him feel a bit pathetic. But holding it was hard enough without it being any heavier. Staring down at the mug, Sam softly admitted “I didn’t think of it like that.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Fenrir said. He reached one hand up and laid it gently over Sam’s knee in a gesture that felt, well, sort of like an adult trying to soothe a child. “We started out trying to find you and look out for you because of Dad, but we kept it up because of you. I just…” His expression turned into something sad and angry all at the same time. “I’m sorry we couldn’t find you sooner.”

Sam shook his head. They didn’t need to apologize for that. He hadn’t even known he was being looked for. How long it took them, that wasn’t important. What was important was that they’d come for him. They’d found him. He and Kevin were safe. Which reminded him… Sam furrowed his brows and tilted his head, scanning the room for that white light he was slowly starting to associate with the prophet. “Where is Kevin?”

“In his room.” Fenrir answered. He pulled his hand back from Sam’s knee and seemed to relax a little more.

Jor made a humming sound of agreement. “Last I saw, he had a stack of books in there with him. He was trying to do his best to figure out everything he can about the weapon your brother used to take out the leviathan. Our sister was helping him.”

Wait a second – what? Sam knew he was gaping, yet he couldn’t stop it. Kevin was trying to research the weapon they took out Dick with? And their _sister_ was helping? It only took Sam a second to place who that sister would be. Hel. Ruler of the Norse version of hell, which shared her name. Loki’s _daughter_. She was helping Kevin to research the weapon?

He heard a low, growling sort of chuckle that could only have come from Fenrir. From Jor, there was an amused snicker, followed by an innocent, “Judging by your fish impression there, I’m guessing you either didn’t think about Hel, or you didn’t think we’d help you.”

“Be nice.” Fenrir scolded, though his tone still held a hint of that growling laugh to it. Sam bet he was smiling, too. “We’ve thrown a lot at him today, and he’s only human. The prophet took _days_ before he stopped jumping every time he came across us.”

“He still stammers.” Jor sounded slightly gleeful over that.

These bits of humor poking through were the last thing that really cemented it for Sam. These were definitely Gabriel’s kids. That poorly timed humorous streak was just further proof of it.

As if picking up on Sam’s thoughts, or still reading his face, Jor snorted. “Calm down, Sam. Yes, if course we’re helping, all three of us. If we can figure out a bit more about that bone Dean used to take out Dick, maybe we can figure out where it sent him and our Uncle. Hel’s been helping us research, but she doesn’t like it quite like I do, so she’s mostly stuck to searching other realms while Fen searches this one.”

“If Dean exists anywhere, we’ll find him.” Fenrir reassured him. “Even if it’s in the afterlife. We’ll find him so you can have closure.”

This was all just too much. Sam didn’t know what to do with this. He wasn’t used to having people on their side. Castiel… Bobby… those were really it. Who else had they ever really called on before? Being a Winchester seemed to mean being alone. Sam had met other hunters over the years and he’d seen a lot who were like his dad – loners who only paired up with someone if they had to, and who spent all their time on the road traveling from case to case – but he’d seen some who didn’t. Some who had families. Even those that worked alone had found places to meet up and talk or exchange information. Like the Roadhouse that Ellen had run. Only John Winchester had eschewed all of that. He’d kept himself and his boys alone. Isolated them. Because of that neither of his boys had ever been any good at asking for help.

But this was about _Dean_. If these people were willing to help him find him, who was he to turn them down? It wasn’t like he could go out there on his own and find him.

Sam swallowed down his guilt and his pride. “Thank you.” He said softly.

“You’re welcome.” Jor’s voice was just as soft as his.

There was a sense of movement from Fenrir and it drew Sam’s attention there. He found the light around the being shifting in a way he wasn’t quite sure of. The colors darkened some, almost like – like grief. But it was warm as well. Welcoming. “We keep telling you that you’re family, Sam. We’re going to do everything we can to help you.”

“I don’t… I don’t want to impose.” Sam stammered out.

“You’re not.” Fenrir reassured him immediately. “This place is one of Dad’s old hideouts. No one was using it. So we took out the dangerous things and made it more human friendly. You and Kevin, you’ll be safe here while you heal and we all do what we can to try and find your brother and his angel.”

This was, it was one of Gabriel’s hideouts? That meant that Sam was essentially going to be sleeping in Gabriel’s bed, making himself at home in Gabriel’s home. The whole idea felt strangely intimate in a way Sam didn’t have the right for. What he felt for Gabriel, and what they seemed to think Gabriel had felt for him, that didn’t matter. They’d never said anything to one another about it and they’d definitely never done anything about it. Unrequited feelings didn’t give Sam the right to invade the man’s home. “I… I can’t.”

“Yeah, you can. Dad would’ve wanted you to, Sam.” Jor said.

Sam was already shaking his head. “I don’t... I mean, we never…” He trailed off kind of awkwardly. It felt so strange to be discussing this with Gabriel’s kids.

Their lights changed a little and Sam could’ve swore they were grinning at him, though he had no idea how he knew. “Yeah, we know.” The two said simultaneously. Then there was a chuckle and Fenrir took over. “But he loved you, Sam. He loved you more than anything.”

“Then why didn’t he tell me?” Sam asked.

“Can you blame him? You’re not the only one who lost everyone they loved. He believed he was as cursed as you think you are.” Jor said.

Some movement from Fenrir had Jor going quiet, which allowed the older of the two to speak again. “He didn’t think he was good enough for you, Sam, and he didn’t think you needed those kinds of troubles on top of everything. But if he’d survived the apocalypse, if you both survived, he’d been planning on talking to you then. I convinced him it was time to, as you humans say, nut up.”

Sam let out a watery laugh. There was no way he could keep arguing this. He was just too tired. Though he knew he should argue, he found he didn’t really want to anyways. Something about knowing this was Gabriel’s home made it all feel just a little bit safer. That didn’t mean he could just give in, though. “What am I supposed to do?” He couldn’t help but ask. “Just sit here and wait? I’m not going to be any real help in research.”

“Hope, grieve. Heal. Rest. Live.” Jor said the words like they were simple, though they all knew they weren’t. They were going to be the most complicated thing Sam had ever done.

Could he do it? Could he sit here and trust in these people to do a job that he’d never trusted anyone to do before? Dean had always taken care of Sam, yes, but Sam had considered it just as much his job to take care of his big brother. No one else was going to do it. Dean always took care of Sam, never himself, and John left them both to fend for themselves plenty of times, so who was going to take care of Dean if Sam didn’t? Even if it was just shutting up and not whining while his brother hooked up with someone, or making sure to throw some of Dean’s dirty laundry in with his, or caring for his brother when he was sick or hurt, Sam did it. He learned all the ways to do it without making it seem like that was what he was doing, too. Because Dean would get his back up if he thought he was being taken care of by anyone.

It was his job to do it and he couldn’t right now. There was no way he’d be able to find Dean like this. Could he trust these people to help do it for him?

Something in him told him yes. He didn’t know why, didn’t understand where this trust came from, only that it was there. As insane as it was, he trusted them to do this.

“Okay,” He said softly. “Okay.”


	4. Chapter 4

That afternoon Sam slept well and deep without the assistance of drugs for the first time since they’d rescued him. It was nice to sleep heavy and to wake up feeling normal. There was still a moment of disorientation, of finding the blackness around him and thinking for a moment that he was back in that little room waiting for Crowley and his demons to come for him. But the sounds of Kevin talking nearby and Jor cooking in the kitchen helped him to center himself until he could get his breathing under control and push the panic down. During the day, it he could turn his focus to other things, enabling him to push that panic down more and more. Repression was a Winchester special, after all.

Really, though, Sam should’ve known that pushing things down wouldn’t work for him. It never really worked in the long run for his family, no matter how hard they tried. As usual, it didn’t come out during the day. No – his fears came out in their typical form.

Nightmares.

Sam’s sleep that night was full of pain in a way he once hadn’t even known was possible. Dark laughter mixed in with a higher, more familiar one, the two blending together until he couldn’t tell Crowley and Lucifer apart. They were just one giant specter in his dream, breaking him down and taking away everything from him until he was trapped in a dark world where there was nothing but pain and that laughter. Sam woke from the dream with his chest heaving and a scream locked behind his lips, threatening to break free.

At first he had no idea where he was or what was going on. The dream was so strong, so real, and there was no familiar grip here to ground him afterwards. No voice in his ear telling him ‘It’s okay, Sammy, you’re okay. I gotcha. It’s just me. You’re all right, little brother. That’s it, breathe for me, in and out. You’re all right.’ Dean had always held on to him when he shot up like this and talked him down with a steady stream of reassuring words until Sam could breathe on his own again. They never spoke about it the next day. That just wasn’t how they were. Yet it never kept Dean from being there each night.

Only, there was none of that now. No Dean, no hands, no reassuring presence to chase away his demons. There was just him and the darkness and the sound of a heart pounding erratically in his ears.

It took a long moment for Sam to realize that it wasn’t just his own heart he was hearing. As soon as he realized that, other sounds filtered in, sharp and loud and _painful_. The sound of someone breathing, the air hitching as it went in and out. A rustle of fabric, the strangely loud ticking of a clock, and further still, softer, the sound of someone else moving around, footsteps making their way towards them. It was all so loud. How the hell could he hear all this? _How_?

Unconsciously, Sam brought his hands up to cover his ears, his body curling sideways and hunching in to try and not only block off the sound but shelter the parts of his body that were starting to ache and scream. “Sam?” A voice asked. _Kevin, that’s Kevin_. But it was so _loud_ and Sam couldn’t stop the low cry that broke past his lips.

All of a sudden someone else was there and cool fingers were stroking over his forehead. As they did, the sound around him lowered, becoming easier to live with. Then Jor’s familiar grip was helping Sam to uncurl and find a more comfortable position against the pillows before they started to run a check and make sure he hadn’t torn any stitches or done any damage, while all the while Jor kept up this steady stream of slightly hissed murmurs that the hunter was startled to find had become sort of normal and even soothing for when Jor checked him over. Once settled, Sam slumped gratefully back against the pillows. Between his nightmare and whatever the hell that had been, he felt exhausted. “What the hell was that?” Sam said, voice hoarse.

Jor’s hands skated over Sam’s hip, checking the cut there and making a low sound in his throat at whatever he found. A second later a compress was being laid over his skin. As he settled it in place, Jor answered Sam’s question, though he gave an answer that Sam hadn’t been expecting at all. “I believe that was your powers, trying to compensate for your eyesight.”

“What?” Sam demanded, eyebrows shooting up in surprise, while at the same time Kevin was saying “Sam doesn’t have powers.”

Hearing him made Sam grimace. He’d never quite gotten around to having this conversation with Kevin. It wasn’t exactly something that he felt the need to tell people. He’d meant to say something to him, maybe show that he understood the kinds of migraines that could come with powers, only he’d never really taken the time to do it. Now it looked like he was out of time on that. “Yeah, I do. Or, at least, I did. I used to.”

“You still do.” Jor said in a low voice. He straightened up, though he didn’t move away from Sam’s side. “They didn’t go away simply because Azazel died. You know who he was, don’t you? _What_ he was?”

“Yeah. I did my research.” Azazel had been an angel, once. One who fell with Lucifer and who became a demon. It hadn’t been just demon blood that he’d fed Sam. It had been the blood of a fallen angel turned demon – something insanely powerful. That was why their Dad had had such a hard time hunting Azazel down. He hadn’t been just a simple demon.

“You haven’t been human since you were six months old, Sam. Azazel dying took away the brunt of your powers, but they’re still in there. I’d imagine you were always going to be psychic. All of his special children were. His blood just boosted it along. Gave you a bit more power than you would’ve had before. Add in all the demon blood you had as an adult, plus housing our Uncle, and it makes you even more…”

“Of a freak?”

“Different.” Jor said firmly. “You’re not a freak, Samuel. Not being human doesn’t automatically make you a freak. So what if you're not entirely human? Being pissed won't change that. Be grateful for it. Use it. It's the only reason you can see anything right now.”

Sam wasn’t going to argue that. He knew better. Instead, he focused on what was important. “What’s that got to do with – _this_?” Lifting his hand, he gestured towards his eyes.

“I can’t be positive, but I believe that when you lost your sight, your powers decided to help out, funneling some extra strength into your other senses to compensate for the one you lost. That’s why you see our power signatures when you look at us.” The fact that Jor knew that, without Sam ever having to tell him, was just a bit startling. He felt Jor’s amusement at whatever was showing on his face. “It’s fine, Samuel. You’re sensing the power, the magic, in those that have it. Your powers are helping you, like I said. It’d be why your hearing is so much stronger, too, and I bet your other senses will get there as well. There’s a good chance they could get stronger now that the power inside you is pushing forward more. It’s not being held back like it was before.”

Horror had Sam’s eyes going wide. “It’s going to get _worse_?” He’d barely handled that noise! And it was supposed to get worse?

A cool hand patted kindly on his leg. “We can teach you to control it. If there’s anyone that understands enhanced senses, it’d be Fen. Wolf, remember? Their hearing and smell can be astounding.”

“Dude,” Kevin said, voice low and tinted with what Sam thought might be humor. Sam had almost forgotten the kid was there until he spoke again. “You’re like Daredevil.”

A surprised snort slipped from Sam. All he could think of as soon as Kevin said that was ‘ _Dean is never going to let me hear the end of this’._ The amount of jokes he’d have to endure would be terrible. Blind, super senses, once wanted to be a lawyer? Yeah. That just screamed ‘Daredevil’. Only, he’d actually been a lawyer, and the types of bad guys he fought tended to be more assassins and ninjas and not werewolves and vampires.

Jor chuckled as well. “Apt description.” There was a bit of shifting on the bed and Sam could tell from Jor’s light that the being was turning to face him once more. “Luckily, we’ve got time while you’re still recovering to get you trained. With you more awake, we were planning on starting your mornings off with some basic training, like braille and other such things. After lunch we can do research, and then Fen can help train your senses after dinner.”

It sounded like a busy day. Not that that was a bad thing. Keeping himself busy while trapped here was a good idea. It’d keep him from dwelling too much. Maybe he’d be able to stave off the depression he could feel tugging at the edges of his mind. But… “Isn’t there any way to, I don’t know, turn this off?”

“I doubt it.” Jor admitted, not sounding the least bit sorry by that. Then he bluntly added, “But I don’t see why you’d want to. Without this, you truly will be blind, Samuel. But if you learn to use your other senses you might be able to gain back even a hint of your sight. Isn’t that worth it?”

“I don’t want my other powers coming back.” Sam admitted quietly. The last thing he wanted was more visions or anything like that.

The light around Jor dimmed a bit for one brief moment. Then it shifted back to its normal color. “I doubt they will. Nothing I can sense suggests it. Your powers are… damaged. Without a bit of help repairing them, I believe this is about all they’re going to be able to do for you. If you hadn’t lost your sight, it’s likely they never would’ve bothered you again.” The weight on the bed shifted again and Sam turned to watch as Jor’s light rose upwards. “We can discuss this all a bit more tomorrow. Right now, you still need to get some sleep, and so do you, prophet.”

“Yeah, yeah.” The grumble to Kevin’s voice was faked, Sam could tell. The man turned towards Sam and checked in with him before heading anywhere. “You all right, Sam?”

Sam tried to smile at him. “I’m okay. Go to sleep, Kev. I’m sorry I woke you.”

His apology was waved off, just as he expected it to be. “No problem, man. Don’t worry about it.”

A few minutes later Sam was once more alone in his room. He lay there against the pillows, knowing that he wasn’t going to be getting any more sleep that night. There was too much for him to think about. Too many things that had happened. He needed to think about what was going on here. Only, he couldn’t make his brain settle enough to figure out where to begin.

Tipping his head back, Sam let his eyes stare up in the direction of the ceiling. What was he supposed to do here? What had his life become? “I wish you were here, Dean.” He murmured to the empty room. Thoughts of his brother made his heart ache, yet also brought a hint of a smile to his lips. He could only imagine Dean’s reaction if he knew that Sam was recuperating in a bed at one of Gabriel’s safe houses, with Gabriel’s kids watching over him. Go figure that he’d get to go to a house that belongs to Gabriel and not get to see a bit of it. Sam wondered what it looked like. And whose room he was in. Had this been Gabriel’s room? Had he slept in this very bed?

That thought brought a blush to Sam’s cheeks that he was grateful no one was there to see. Once more, he found himself speaking out loud, though he wasn’t quite sure why. “Something tells me you’d get a kick out of my embarrassment. And the Daredevil bit. My luck, you’d probably snap me into an actual Daredevil suit. Or stand around whispering things no one else would be able to hear just to try and make me laugh.” It was something he could picture Gabriel doing. Sam smiled a little at the idea of it.

Though he couldn’t explain why, he found himself continuing to talk. It wasn’t quite a prayer, not anything that structured. It was more like a one-sided conversation, or a journal entry that was spoken out loud. Sam didn’t know why he did it. He just knew it felt… good. “I like your kids. I haven’t met Hel yet, but the boys are nice. They… they saved me, and they’ve been taking care of me. I guess I have you to thank for that. I was, I was so sure that I was out of luck this time.” Lifting one aching hand, Sam ran it through his hair, wincing only a little as it tugged at his splinted fingers. He dropped his hand back down to his lap and sighed. “I don’t know what I’m doing here, Gabriel. I don’t… I don’t understand any of this. I feel like I’m, like I’m drowning, and I’m doing my damndest to keep my head above water but the waves keep knocking me back down.”

Exhaustion had Sam slumping down on the bed and closing his eyes once more. Saying all this out loud, it felt good, but it left him feeling drained.

“I wish you were here.” Sam murmured. He was surprised to find just how much he meant those words. They stayed with him as he slowly drifted back off to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

The next day started Sam’s new training. He was pleasantly surprised to find that he really enjoyed the lessons in braille. The idea of getting back the ability to read and do his research – it took away some of the tension that sat in his shoulders and made it just a bit easier to breathe. He had to do his lessons from his bed, but that was fine. He could handle that.

With all his new lessons, there was plenty to keep him occupied while he healed. Jor was insistent he stay in bed just a few more days, making it two weeks that he’d be lying there, before he was allowed to venture upright again. Sam probably could’ve dealt with it a bit better if it hadn’t meant the use of things like bedpans. There was no way around the embarrassment of having to use those.

All embarrassment aside, Jor was proving to be a quite competent doctor, and a surprisingly easy friend. He could sound formal when annoyed, liked to call Sam ‘Samuel’, and – according to Kevin – dressed mostly in a rather well fitting business suit that was beautifully tailored and quite flattering. Sam had gleefully teased Kevin after that description.

Jor had a sharp tongue, a quick wit, and a dry sense of humor. Sometimes his smile was sharp enough that Sam swore he could _hear_ the difference, and yet other times Sam would listen to him talk, here the way he spoke and how he held himself, and be strongly reminded of Lucifer. Not the darkness of him, no. But the parts of him that Sam had glimpsed, both before the Cage and during, that hinted at who the archangel had once been. Who he _could’ve_ been.

Fenrir, on the other hand, was so much like Dean it was startling. He was quick to laugh, either in human or wolf form, and liked a practical joke as much as his father, but he had far more respect than Loki and even Dean when it came to those jokes. He was kind, sometimes gruff, a bit on the rougher side – Sam figured that was the wolf part of him coming through – and insanely loyal. He had no shame about his emotions, none of them seemed to, and admitted easily to what he felt, be it good or bad. He was also, Sam discovered, _married_ , and a _father._ He had twin boys that he promised to bring by at some point.

They were all so easy to get along with. It made Sam’s bedrest a whole lot easier to deal with. Not only did they help out with research, they – and Kevin, too – took turns keeping Sam entertained during meal times, trying to make sure that he was rarely left alone for long so that he wouldn’t have time to wallow in his own self-pity or depression. They kept his brain busy and stimulated, while at the same time making sure that it didn’t get _too_ stimulated.

Jor had been right. Fenrir was amazing at helping Sam control his senses – and it had ended up being more than just his hearing. Everything except his sight seemed to be so much stronger. It was like they were compensating for the fact that he couldn’t see. Kevin liked to throw out the Daredevil jokes still, far too amused by them, and the others were picking up on it, but there was one big difference for Sam between him and Matt Murdock. Whereas Daredevil described how he saw with his senses as ‘a world on fire’, it wasn’t like that for Sam. The world wasn’t on fire – people were. People were bright, blazing lights, and the rest of the world was more like… more like a pond. One that rippled with waves of sound.

That was how Sam described it to Gabriel during what had become his nightly ritual. With everyone gone from his room, he’d sit there for a while and just, talk to the archangel. Even though he knew Gabriel couldn’t hear him, he still spoke with him. It was peaceful in a way that Sam had once associated with prayer, back before he’d actually met angels.

He talked to Gabriel about the nightmares he had. About learning how to live without his eyes. His fears about not being able to get anything close to his old life back again, his hopes in finding Dean. He talked about the grief and depression that gripped at him each and every day that he had to fight so hard to keep hidden from the others. He didn’t want to make them worry. Sam also told him all about his lessons, about learning braille and learning to control his senses, and he talked about how amazing his boys were, and how he was sure that Hel would be just as amazing. Not that he knew much about her; she tended to avoid him. It only made him more curious about her, though.

Sam didn’t get a chance to interact with her much until he was up for the third day in a row, technically his tenth day in bed. He and Kevin were in there getting ready to research when Hel came walking in.

One interesting thing about meeting new people was that Sam didn’t get to see what they looked like. Not in the traditional sense at least. What he saw of Hel was the same type of light that he saw on the others, only hers was a dusky blue/gray that he couldn’t help but think suited the husky voice that greeted him. “Sam Winchester.” She didn’t approach the bed at all. Instead, she seemed to sit down a little ways away in the chair that Jor occasionally liked to use.

Sam cleared his throat and sat up a little straighter, wincing at the pull on his hip. Out of everything, that was the injury that was giving him the most grief. He didn’t let it show, though. “You must be Hel.”

“Aren’t you the clever one?”

The dry mockery in that almost drew another wince out of Sam. “It’s, ah… It’s nice to meet you.”

“Hm.” There was a low, soft hum, and the light around her darkened just a bit, flashing with something that made him think _grief._ “Funny. I can’t quite say the same.”

This time Sam did wince. The only thing that saved the conversation from devolving was Kevin. He got them straight to work on research and kept himself between the two pretty much the entire time. Sam did his best to try and ignore the sarcasm and bitterness in Hel’s voice. Something told him that, while the brothers didn’t blame him for Gabriel, it was pretty clear that Hel _did_. Not that Sam could really blame her. Gabriel’s death _was_ his fault. His and Dean’s. He knew that, and because of that, he said nothing. Still, he wasn’t too surprised when Hel didn’t come back after that.

* * *

By the time Jor finally agreed that it was time for Sam to get up and start moving around, to try and help his body maintain its strength, Sam was stunned to find out just how much of his strength he’d already lost. Between his captivity with Crowley, being beaten and starved, and then his time lying in bed here, his muscles weren’t all that keen on doing what he told them to. It took both Jor and Kevin to help him sit up and stay up on the edge of the bed. Jor helped to lower Sam’s legs down to the ground as gently as possible. Still, it made his hip throb a bit, echoing through the muscles and nerves down his thigh and even into his groin.

The pain on Sam’s face must’ve been clear to see, because Jor made a low, sympathetic sounding hiss. “I’ll see if there’s something else out there we can try.” Jor said. He stayed at Sam’s feet for a moment, though Sam had no idea what he was doing. Then he sighed and straightened back up. “I might have to go back a bit, try some old remedies. The newer stuff doesn’t seem to be doing as well as I’d like.”

Though Sam couldn’t see his face, habit still had him tilting his own face in Jor’s direction as if he could still see. “Do you actually think anything will help?”

“Sam…” Kevin began warningly.

Sam cut him off quickly with a wave of his hand. “No, I’m not trying to be negative. I’m trying to be practical. I’ve seen the kind of damage cursed blades can cause. The fact that I’m still alive is amazing. I know stories of hunters who died from a scratch. So I’m being serious when I ask if you actually think anything is going to help, Jor.”

There was only a brief pause in which the light that was Jor flashed and flickered a little, changing shades and hues. Then he sighed. “Honestly?” Jor paused, his light shifting a bit to the right, and then his hands spread out in a sort of ‘I don’t know’ gesture. “I can’t say yes or no, Samuel. Your injury was caused by a cursed blade, and that alone makes things difficult. Add in your unique physiology and that makes things even more difficult. There’s no telling if anything we try is going to work. It may heal it, it may not. It may just ease it a little, but not completely. I can’t be certain on anything. What I _can_ be certain on is that nothing is going to help us if we don’t at least try.”

It was about the same conclusion that Sam had come to. He was sort of used to the fact that most medicine didn’t work on him. Things had been like that for as long as he could remember, even before they’d known _why_. Sam always ran a warmer temperature than most people, usually averaging 99.7 to 100.1 on a normal day. The daytime flu medicines never did anything for him, and painkillers usually had to be taken in double the recommended dose just for him to feel it. In contrast, nighttime flu medicines knocked him for a loop with just a child’s dose, and allergy pills could put him to sleep like no one’s business. Anesthesia had just always been a crapshoot. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t.

Sam was used to all of that. He even knew now that he could credit all that to the way the demon blood had changed his body. Go figure that it would work against him now. So far, the poultices and herbs that Jor had been using – Sam let himself live in blissful ignorance of the fact that it was likely pagan magic being performed here, something Dean would hate and yet Sam had never openly disapproved of, not when it was helping and healing – seemed to have worked well on Sam’s broken bones. They were definitely a lot more healed than they should’ve been at this point, and his bruises and cuts were practically gone if not vanished entirely. But nothing was working on his hip.

Drawing in a breath, Sam pushed away his worries, refusing to dwell on it. That would get him nowhere. He lifted his right hand, the two broken fingers feeling now more like they did after he punched something and less like something had snapped them like twigs – _Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think about how he snapped them, twisted them, broke them like they were nothing –_ and he reached out until he felt cool fingers close over his. Both of Jor’s hands caught Sam’s one, holding on there briefly before one hand slid down Sam’s arm until it could cup his elbow. On his other side, Kevin was cupping that elbow just like Jor, and his other hand was hovering over Sam’s back, cautious of the cuts back there. While they’d been made with what they believed was the same blade that had been used on his hip, they didn’t seem to give him as much trouble. But Sam was used to lower back pain, too. He always had some in one form or another. It came from being as tall as he was.

“As soon as you’re ready,” Jor said, bringing Sam’s focus back to him. “I want you to slide down with your right side and put your weight on that foot first. There, like that, good…”

With gentle coaxing Sam slid off the bed and down onto his right foot. The toes ached, but the bruises there had mostly faded, as had most of the ones on his legs. Those tender places on the inside were slowly getting less tender. They didn’t protest as he slid more weight onto his foot.

Only when he had himself balanced on that foot, and on his two friends, did Sam finally dare to put a bit of weight down onto his left foot.

There was a twinge in his ankle and through his foot that reminded him of his broken toes and sprained ankle, which was mostly healed. His legs shook a little when he tried to even his weight out. He got most of his weight, maybe just a bit over half, down onto his left foot before the muscles in his hip and thigh started to clench up and spasm. Sam sucked in a sharp breath and drew his weight back quickly. Luckily, Jor and Kevin were ready for it, and they braced him. “Good.” Jor said, keeping Sam steady without any signs of exertion. “Good. We know your limits now and we can work on building from there. That’s a good thing.”

“How am I supposed to walk like this?” Sam asked.

He swore he could _feel_ Jor’s cheeky grin. “Very carefully.”

The tone to that quip was so reminiscent of Gabriel, it had Sam’s lips twitching before he could stop himself. “Smart ass.”

“Such a flatterer you are, Samuel. No wonder my father fancied you, with a sweet tongue like that.”

“Oh God.” Kevin groaned out. His light shifted and Sam thought that maybe he was shaking his head at them. “I really don’t need to hear all that, man. Let’s just pretend that part of the conversation never happened and just get you moving, yeah?”

Yeah. Yeah, Sam could definitely do that. He really didn’t need to stand here and talk about Gabriel with one of the archangel’s kids. Not to mention, he wasn’t entirely sure how long his legs were going to let him stay upright here. They were already shaking some. Sam absolutely refused to give up after just managing to get standing. He wanted to _walk_. Dammit, he wanted his mobility back. “Yeah, let’s do this.”

Of course, it wasn’t as easy as that. Stepping with his right foot – easy. Stepping with his left – not so much. He had to lean heavily on his friends to try and keep some of his weight off that leg. Crutches would’ve been a good idea if Sam’s body had been healed enough, and Jor hadn’t completely nixed the idea before they could even think to try. He wanted Sam to train that muscle, and he couldn’t do that if he was relying on crutches. Besides which, as he pointed out there was really no way for Sam to walk with crutches, keep his balance, work out his leg, _and_ let someone help guide him along until he got the house memorized. Easier by far to just let them help him limp his way to the living room.

That was his goal and Sam was determined to make it. He grit his teeth and made himself keep moving no matter how much it started to hurt.

By the time he reached the couch, he was pale and a bit sweaty, but he was beaming. He’d made it! He’d made it to the couch! Sam sank down onto the soft couch with a happy, relieved sigh.

As he settled in, he heard the sound of four feet padding their way into the room. “Well I’ll be damned.” Fenrir’s voice was an amused rumble. “Look who made it out of his room.”

“I walked.” Sam said rather proudly.

Down by his feet, lifting them to settle them in place, Jor let out a snort. “If you’d call it that.”

“Yeah.” Kevin said agreeably. “That was more… zombie pirate. A stumbling, shuffling, sort of… hop.”

The description had both Jor and Fenrir laughing and Sam mockingly scowling at the kid. There was a lightness in Sam’s heart that he hadn’t felt for a while and he found it easy to let some humor show through as he told Kevin “Bite me, kid.”

“You’re so not my type, old man.” Kevin shot back.

This time Sam couldn’t help but join in the laughter. It felt good to joke around and tease. There was a part of him that was waiting for Dean to chime in and give one of his usual bad jokes or smart remarks. Sam worked to shove that part of himself down and ignore it. He wasn’t going to let grief ruin the moment for him. Not after how hard he’d worked to get out here. He sighed out a breath and tried to let some of his tension go with it. Fully settled onto the couch, he relaxed, some of his muscles happy for the rest. “A few days of this and I should be able to make it on my own.”

“As long as you don’t push yourself too hard.” Jor countered. There was a scrape of fabric over fabric and Sam tilted his head, cataloging the sound and matching it up to the shift he saw in Jor’s light. Together, it told him that the other man had sat himself down on the armrest of the couch down by Sam’s feet. The fact that he could tell that, could use his senses to do it, was enough to make his smile grow even bigger.

Fenrir came closer and sat down near Sam’s head. “There’s no race here, Sam. We’re not judging you on how long it takes you to get back on your feet.”

They might not have been, but _he_ was. Sam didn’t want to be beholden to them any longer than he had to. It wasn’t fair to them to have to take care of him so much. They deserved to have some time back to themselves; to have their lives back. Sam knew better than to say all that out loud, though. Instead, he settled on giving a sort of half smile and jokingly saying, “Hey, don’t knock my goals. The sooner I can walk to the bathroom on my own, the better it’ll be for all of us.”

The sound of a different sort of laughter had Sam’s head jerking towards the right. He was stunned to find there was another light, one that matched Fenrir’s ever so slightly, and yet carried its own colors to it as well. Not just earth tones, but sunlight and the afternoon sky. The colors were beautiful – and were very much in the shape of another wolf.

Fenrir gave a happy little growl and shifted his weight so that he could turn that direction as well. “Ylva.”

“Sorry I’m early.” The other wolf – a woman – said in a voice that was soft and sweet. There were hints of something else to it, that growl that underscored all of Fenrir’s words as well, yet somehow that didn’t make the sound lose its softness at all. “It didn’t take as long as I thought with Thor. He was more eager to go and play with the pups.”

“Thor?” Kevin sounded awed as he uttered that single word.

Chuckling, Ylva huffed out a laugh. She made her way right over to Fenrir and took a seat beside him, near Sam. “Indeed. He’s a wonderful babysitter and the kids dearly love their uncle.” Then Ylva turned towards Sam and her light brightened a bit more and he knew he was being smiled at. “My apologies for being rude and just barging right into conversation here. I’ve just heard so much about you, I feel like I almost already know you. I’m Ylva, wife to this rascal here. I’d offer to shake your hand, but, well, I doubt a paw would feel good on your healing hands, and I didn’t bring clothes to change into.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Sam said automatically.

Ylva laughed again, another beautiful sound. “Oh, honey. You look like you’re scrambling to try and figure out what to say. Don’t worry about it. There’ve been more important things for you guys to be talking about than me. We’ll get the chance to get to know each other now.”

There was just something about her that made Sam relax a little. He found himself actually smiling at her. A real one, not one tinged with anything else. “I’d like that.”


	6. Chapter 6

Ylva stayed through the morning and was with them until lunch. It was fun, getting to know her. She was different from the rest of them. There wasn’t any sort of past tied to his knowledge of her. With Fenrir and Jor, there was always the knowledge there that these were Gabriel’s kids, that their father had been lost because of him, and though he tried not to think about it that knowledge was always in the back of his mind. There was none of that with Ylva. She’d been close to Gabriel, yes, and loved him dearly, but she wasn’t biologically family, and that seemed to make a difference in Sam’s head.

It was Kevin who spoke up at one point and asked what Sam was thinking. “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to be rude or anything, but… were you always a wolf?”

His question didn’t seem to offend Ylva at all. She let out a laugh that only held a slight rumble to it. “Oh, no. When I met Fen, I was just a regular girl he fell in love with. His Dad was the one who helped make me into a wolf. Once we decided we wanted to be together, Gabriel came up and offered to give me the ability to shapeshift so that Fenny and I could be together in every way. I leapt at the chance.” Her light leaned in towards Fenrir’s and Sam thought it was beautiful, to see the way they sort of merged together. Her voice went softer, full of love. “It was the best decision I’ve ever made. I have a wonderful mate and adorable pups. It was everything I could’ve ever asked for.”

She sounded so happy. Sam tried to hide the jealousy that flared up. He’d had happiness once. Or, at least, a start of it. Jess had made him happy. It didn’t matter if he knew now that their relationship never would’ve lasted. This world wasn’t the right kind of world for her. She had loved the shy, dorky, smart Sam whose biggest dream had been to become a lawyer and live as normal a life as possible. This life he was in now… it wasn’t for her. Ignoring all that, Sam knew that he’d been happy with her. However, there was something inside of him that told him he could’ve been a whole lot happier with a snarky trickster/archangel. He just – he hadn’t been brave enough to reach out, and neither had Gabriel, and now they would never know.

Sam turned his head a little and dropped his chin down until his face was towards the back of the couch. He didn’t notice anyone watching him; wouldn’t have even been able to see the sad looks on their faces at his obvious grief.

Why was it that everything that had the potential to make him happy was taken from him? Jess, his life at Stanford, his brother, Bobby, his brother again – and again and again and again – any friends, _Gabriel_. Any chance that Sam had at being happy, even just a little, was ripped away from him each and every time he glimpsed it. And now… now he was, he was so damn _broken_. His body was broken, his heart was broken, and he knew his spirit was broken. Some days it was just so hard to keep on going and keep trying. Who was going to want someone like that?

Maybe it was selfish, but he didn’t want to see how happy Ylva and Fenrir were. More than anything in the world Sam wanted that for himself. He’d always wanted that. Someone to call his own, and who would want him as theirs. Someone to love him despite all his faults and mistakes. Somehow who wouldn’t be afraid of the darkness that Sam knew lived inside him.

It just didn’t seem meant to be. Anyone that Sam cared about always seemed to be cursed. Caring for someone, loving them, even sleeping with them, it didn’t matter. They turned out evil, got hurt by his life, or were killed.

Heart aching, Sam closed his eyes even tighter and let the world shut out around him until he drifted back down to sleep. He didn’t feel it as someone draped a blanket over him or as the bodies of two wolves laid themselves down in front of him, sheltering him from a world that had sought to hurt him far too many times.

* * *

For the next week Ylva came to visit each and every day. Despite the grief and jealousy that Sam couldn’t help but feel when she and Fenrir were together, he was discovering that she was an amazing woman all on her own. It stunned him to find out just how close he was growing with her.

It was different, talking with her compared to talking with everyone else. They were all focusing on helping him heal his body and helping him to find Dean. They didn’t really talk about the rest of it. Not the grief he felt at Dean’s loss, or the pain and fear he felt from Crowley’s torture, or how it all brought up his older fears and nightmares from Lucifer. None of them mentioned it, not even when they were able to see plainly on his face that he’d been having nightmares the night before, and Sam didn’t _want_ to talk to them about it. He didn’t want to explain to anyone how broken and afraid he’d become. He didn’t want to talk to them about how terrified he was of living without his sight, or how useless it made him feel.

But with Ylva – there was just something so easy and calming about her. She started showing up at lunch time and switching out with Fenrir so that he could go spend time with his kids. She’d stay with Sam while he ate and follow him outside to the backyard once he was able to make his way out there. Never once did she complain about acting as a support for him. Though she wasn’t as big as Fenrir, she was big enough. Bigger than a normal dog. That meant it was easy for her to lean against his leg and act as a brace for him.

Once they got outside, she’d let him lean on her so that he could lower himself into the chair that Jor put out here for him. Though Sam couldn’t see anything, he still appreciated being able to come outside and sit in the sunshine, or feel the wind across his skin.

Out there, with Ylva sitting guard beside him, it was strangely easy for Sam to talk. Almost as easy as he found it to talk to Gabriel at night like he did. Sam found himself opening up to her and she listened to it all with a ready ear and a lack of judgment. She didn’t judge him for anything that he said or felt, and she never commented on the tears that would sometimes slip free despite his best efforts.

She helped with his senses, too, expanding on Fenrir’s teachings and helping him to practice. In her, Sam discovered a real friend, and a bit of a mother. She was always asking him if he’d eaten, making sure he was getting enough sleep, or snapping at the others when she felt they were pushing him too hard.

Despite the grief and depression that were never far away, Sam was learning to live again. He was doing exactly what they’d suggested he do. Living. Healing. It wasn’t easy, and it was terrifying, but he was doing his best. With each passing day he grew a little bit stronger and a little more sure of himself. Braille was coming easier and easier to him, as was the training with his senses and the new mobility training that came with him being back on his feet.

“Your family is amazing.” Sam said in one of his nightly prayers to Gabriel. They’d become such a soothing part of his routine. He sat outside tonight for this one, face tilted up towards the sky while the breeze played over his skin. “I don’t know what I’d do without them. They’re not just keeping me alive. They’re helping me live again. I never… I was always so sure I’d never be able to make it without Dean, and sometimes I still think that I won’t. But they don’t let me feel like that for long. They just, they remind me that I’m not really alone. I’ve got them.”

Well, most of them.

Sam’s lips twisted a little in a sort of half smile, just a bit wry at the edges. “I’m pretty sure that Hel still holds a grudge, though. Not that I really blame her. You’re her father. From what I hear, she was a bit of a Daddy’s girl. It’s no wonder she can’t really stand the sight of me. I can respect that. Maybe one day I’ll figure out a way to show her how sorry I am. Of course, she’ll have to actually stay in a room when I come in for that to happen.” He said the last part with a chuckle. Then he lit up as he remembered something he’d wanted to mention. “Oh! I met your grandson’s today. Skoll and Hati. I swear, you’ve got to be the proudest Farfar around.”

That was a term that Sam had learned today – Farfar. Apparently it meant ‘father’s father’, or grandfather. It was what six-year-old twins Skoll and Hati referred to Gabriel as.

The two little bundles of energy had been a bright spot in Sam’s day. Fenrir and Ylva had decided that Sam was finally up for meeting them now that he was a lot more mobile. So they brought them over, and let them creep up to surprise Sam in the backyard. At first, he hadn’t even known that they were kids, only that two puppies had come up to him. He’d never been able to resist dogs. In no time at all he’d ended up on the ground playing with them.

Fenrir had been the one to come out and make the introductions. To Sam’s stunned amazement, he’d ended up with a lap full of two little boys who were suddenly full of a thousand different questions and so many stories. Talking with them, playing with them, had been a bright spot in Sam’s day, and one that he wouldn’t soon forget. When Ylva promised to bring them by again, Sam couldn’t help it, he beamed at her. It was hard to feel the heartache when you’ve got two amazing children there to make you smile.

* * *

For the most part, Sam was finally starting to do okay. There were some days that were harder than others, of course. Each time someone told him that they hadn’t found Dean yet, each hint of a lead that fell through, it always knocked him down a step.

He’d been there for almost a month and his body had finally, mostly, healed, when they hit yet another dead end in their research.

Sam, Kevin, Fenrir, and Ylva were outside that night, sitting on the grass and going through their books while Jor and the kids were inside having bath time. Kevin was reading out loud and Sam was helping him try to piece things together. He’d been so sure that they’d finally found a hint of something out there, something that might tell them what happened when a Leviathan exploded like that, only for it to end up in more _nothing_. Sam hated it! He let out a frustrated breath and leaned back a little on his cushion. Though most of his body had healed, the wound on his hip never seemed to get fully better. Hitting it just right, or twisting a certain way, would set off spasms and pain that would drop him to the ground and have him gasping for breath. To sit down low like this, it was easier if he had a pillow and something nearby to help him when he got back up.

“I feel like I should be out there looking for Dean.” Sam said, rubbing a hand over his face. It took everything he had not to scoop up one of the books and throw it. He hated being this helpless! “It feels wrong to just sit here and let everyone else do it. Only, I don’t know… I don’t even know where to begin.”

“Hel’s doing all she can. Trust me, if anyone can find a soul, it’d be her.” Fenrir reassured him.

Sam shook his head. “But I’m not… I’m not _doing_ anything, and I should be. I should be doing something!”

“You’re doing what you can, Sam. You are living.” Ylva told him kindly. “No one can ask for more. I understand that you need answers and we will do all we can to help you get them. Until then, all you can do is keep going through each day. The grief is there, I know, but it will subside. It will become bearable.”

It wasn’t much, but it helped him feel a little bit better.

Still, Sam opted to stay outside when everyone else went in. Fenrir and Ylva went to go put their boys to bed. They were going to stay the night that night so that they could have a fun time out the next day. It seemed the boys wanted to go out to the park and Fenrir had decided not only would it be good for them to practice being human, it’d be good for Sam to practice moving around in the human world. They’d been working on him walking with a sight stick and he could get his way around the house pretty well by now, so they were going to test it out in public. The idea held some appeal to Sam. He’d been in this house for a while now and it would do him some good to get out, he knew. Yet at the same time he was _afraid_. Would his ability to see everyone’s light allow him to tell if someone was a monster or not? Would he be able to protect himself? Or was he going to just be a liability if trouble came along?

Those thoughts plagued Sam as he sat in his chair on the back porch while the air slowly cooled around him.

He was still sitting there when he felt a presence start to come his way. It was getting easier to hear and sense people and also to recognize who it was that was coming. This one was an easy one. Sam turned his head in the direction of that light and arched an eyebrow at the little boy coming his way. “Skoll, what’re you doing out here? You’re supposed to be in bed.”

Skoll came right up to him and climbed up carefully onto Sam’s lap. They were always gentle with him, the boys, making sure never to hit any of his ‘ow spots’. The fact that he was in pup form made it easier. He was a bit smaller that way. “Couldn’t sleep.” Skoll said as he settled in, curling gently around Sam’s tender hip. It was easy to feel as the little pup yawned. “How come you’re outside?”

A small smile touched Sam’s lips. “I couldn’t sleep either.”

“I heard you talking. Who’re you talking to?”

“Your grandpa.”

That seemed to surprise him. His little head lifted up and turned Sam’s direction. “Farfar?”

Smiling, Sam reached out and ran his hand down Skoll’s fur. Both boys loved being pet. It made them happy and it was soothing for Sam as well. “Yeah, your Farfar. I know he probably can’t hear me, but if he can, I thought he’d like to know things that’re going on. And it makes me feel a little better.”

“We miss him.” Another voice chimed in. Small paws made a soft sound as another pup made their way towards him. Sam’s smile grew as Hati climbed up to join his brother on the chair with Sam. He chose to lay over Sam’s legs, his head curled up to rest on the human’s thigh. His presence wasn’t really all that surprising. Sam should’ve known where one was, the other would follow.

With both twins comfortably on him, Sam let himself relax as well. He tilted his face back up towards the sky once more. “I miss him too.” He told the boys. The words were surprisingly honest; he missed Gabriel more than he’d thought he would. “You could tell him that, you know.”

“But Far says he’s gone.” Hati protested. He seemed to be the more practical of the two of them.

Sam nodded. “Mm hm. But sometimes it still feels good to say things, even if the person you’re saying them to can’t hear you anymore. You can say it in your head, or you can say it to the sky.”

Almost immediately both boys shifted themselves and Sam could feel them lifting their heads to look up at the sky. “Hey, Farfar.” Hati began, his voice a bit softer than normal, a bit sad. “We really, really miss you.”

“Sam says we should tell you, even if you can’t hear us.” Skoll added in.

Hati nodded his agreement. “We like Sam. He’s been really, really nice and he’s lots of fun.”

Skoll turned his head towards Sam and tilted it a little, the light around him shifting just enough for Sam to see it. “Far says that Farfar really, really loved you.”

“He said you and Farfar probably would’ve been mates if Farfar hadn’t died.” Hati said. Then he paused and his voice turned contemplative. “If you were gonna be Farfar’s mate, that’d make you our Farfar too. But we can’t call you that, cause then we’d get you guys mixed up.”

It took a lot of effort for Sam not to grin at the two kids. Or to blush. “You guys could just call me Sam.” He tried. Immediately the air was full of protests. Sam finally had to hold up a hand to quiet them both. “Okay, okay, calm down.” This was something that was seemingly important to them, and Sam could admit to himself that it made him feel just a little bit special. He also felt like he should probably handle this very carefully so as not to hurt either one of them. “If you don’t want to call me Sam, and you can’t call me Farfar – what do you _want_ to call me?”

The fact that he was asking them what _they_ wanted had both boys snapping a bit more to attention.

“Farfar Sam?” Skoll said. Then he shook his head, as did Hati. “Samfar?”

“One of our friends calls their Farfar ‘Grandpa’.” Hati said.

Sam nodded at them. “That’s what a lot of American kids use.”

“I don’t like it.” Hati said firmly. “It don’t sound right.”

Amusement curved Sam’s lips. He reached out, tapping Hati’s nose, and corrected him. “Doesn’t.”

He swore he could _feel_ the eye roll that accompanied that. “What about Papa Sam?”

“Or Papi!”

The two went back and forth with different things that they’d heard, asking Sam a few times for names for grandparents in different languages. But it was Skoll who finally found the word they wanted. He was the one who suddenly jumped up and shouted out “I got it! We can call you Afi. Our friend Aron calls his Grandfather that.”

“Afi, huh?” Sam’s smile grew a little. Of all the things they could’ve picked, he could live with this one at least. It was better than a lot of the other ones they’d tossed out there. When both boys happily agreed “Yeah!” it only made Sam’s smile grow. “Well, then,” Reaching out, he ran his hands over both boys’ heads. “Your Afi says you two should probably get back inside and in bed before your Mor or Far comes out here looking for you.”

Despite the grumbles they let out, the two pups both stretched themselves up and licked at Sam’s hands. “Night, Afi.” Hati called out, hopping down off the chair. Skoll was right behind him, calling out a goodnight of his own. “Night, Afi.” Then he paused and the pup gave one more lick to Sam’s hand, quietly telling him “I’m glad you’re part of the family now.” And then he was gone.

For a long moment Sam sat there and just stared where the pups had gone. He was so distracted by what had just happened that he didn’t hear Fenrir until the wolf was right beside him. “They like you.”

To his credit, Sam didn’t jump. He just continued to face the direction the boys had gone, a soft smile on his lips. “I like them, too.”

“We weren’t kidding about you being part of the family, Sam.” Fenrir moved his head forward just enough to nudge his nose against Sam’s arm, drawing his focus over to him. There was a smile in his voice as he kept on talking. “It’s just a bit more official now. We’re your family and we’ll be here for you as long as you’ll let us.”

For the first time, Sam found himself believing it.


	7. Chapter 7

Despite how nervous the idea of leaving the house made Sam, he had to admit that the boys’ excitement was infectious.

Sam worried about it as he got himself up and dressed the next morning. Navigating his room in the house – which was bigger than anything he’d ever lived in before – was starting to get easier and easier, so it didn’t take much thought to make his way over to the dresser. He’d found it easier to keep some clothes in there. Where the clothes came from, he wasn’t sure, just that he had plenty of pants, shirts, underclothes; just pretty much anything he’d need. Now that he knew braille well enough to recognize some things, Ylva and Kevin had gone in and labeled things for him, though he had the layout of the drawers memorized. Underclothes in the top – boxers and socks on the left, tank tops in the middle, and pajama bottoms and sweats on the right. Second drawer was shirts – plaids on the left, t-shirts on the right. The tags were somehow braille labeled as well now, telling him color or pattern. And in the bottom drawer were jeans, with two pairs of slacks that Ylva insisted be in there. “Every man needs a good pair of slacks, sweetheart.”

He grabbed himself a pair of jeans, a black t-shirt, and a red plaid over shirt, as well as socks and underclothes, and then he made his way into the bathroom.

In here there were braille labels as well. Ylva and Kevin might’ve gone a bit overboard labeling everything in sight that they thought Sam _might_ come into contact with. It didn’t matter that he only had one shampoo bottle and one bottle of body wash, they were still labeled.

As much as Sam hated it, he didn’t bother trying to stand in the shower. Instead, he slipped down into the shower chair that had magically appeared in his shower one day. And by that, Sam really meant _magically_. One minute Sam had been trying to stubbornly stand in the shower despite the pain in his hip, and the next he’d started to fall only to find himself seated on a chair that hadn’t been there moments before. It stayed in there after that. Sam just chalked it up to the fact that this was _Gabriel’s_ house. It was the only explanation he could think of.

After showering, brushing his teeth, and getting dressed, Sam grabbed the long cane he’d been practicing with and set out from the bedroom. Though he knew his route, habit had him trailing the fingers of one hand along the wall. He didn’t actually have to use the cane in here, though he did anyways. The practice helped him. He knew he reached the end of the hall when the wall started to slope beside him, showing him he was coming up alongside the bottom of the staircase. His room was one of the only bedrooms downstairs. With his injuries, keeping him on the ground floor had been smart.

Sam heard the noise ahead of him and knew to brace himself at least a little as he stepped out into the main room. Once he reached the open entrance to the living room, he heard a few excited cries and pressed his palm against the wall to brace while his other hand lifted in preparation for the two bodies that rushed up to him. “Afi, Afi!” One of them cried, while the other was happily shouting “We’ve been waiting _forever_ for you!”

“Boys.” Ylva’s calm voice broke through their excited babble and silenced them. Her footsteps were light as they made their way towards Sam, and he looked up to smile at the light coming his way.

“They’re all right.” He reassured her. His free hand settled onto Hati’s head and ruffled at the boy’s hair while he tipped his face down towards them. “You guys ready to go out and have fun?”

“Yeah!” The two cried out. Then Skoll continued, adding “Far said we could go and play at the park, and then we’ll get some lunch and even get some _ice cream_.”

“Sounds like a good day to me.”

The three adults chuckled to themselves at the way the boys tore around the house. It took a bit for everyone to get coats on, and then a bit more for Jor to give Sam a few warnings and pointers. Then, finally, they were making their way out the front door. “The porch has three steps down.” Fenrir warned him. Sam nodded and paid close attention as he used his stick to help himself carefully navigate his way down the stairs. He wasn’t all that surprised when Ylva moved to take his free side once they were on the walk. She stepped up close to him and he smiled, accepting the offer of her arm. His fingers curled into the curve of it and kept a light touch there. This way, he’d be able to practice with his stick while at the same time trusting that she’d prevent him from running into anything or anyone.

“So…this house is an actual, existing house?” Sam asked as they turned onto the sidewalk. He heard the boys chattering away in front of them and could feel Fenrir’s steady presence behind him. It helped him to breathe just a little bit easier. There was something low in his stomach he recognized as panic; the last thing he wanted was to do anything to let it free. He was out in public again for the first time since Crowley, with demons likely trying to find him and Crowley furious he’d escaped, and he didn’t even have his sight to help him.

Here and there he could see the hint of lights around him, breaking up the darkness of his vision. _Souls_ , his mind told him, shock and awe there. Those were souls. They weren’t as bright as, say, Kevin’s soul was, but Kevin was also marked as a prophet. It was logical that his soul was brighter than the rest.

“It is.” Fenrir said, a smile in his voice. “Dad had his safe houses that were in his own, created places, but those ones are tricky to get into and we didn’t want to test the wards and try to get you in there while you were hurt, even if they are safer. This place is kind of like, a vacation home for him I guess you’d call it. A getaway in a town that’s not too small, but not too big. Somewhere he always said was peaceful. We figured it’d be the best place for you to recuperate at.”

“Plus, it’s near forests so Fenny here can get a chance to run.” Ylva chimed in.

There was a laugh in Fenrir’s voice and absolutely no shame as he agreed with her.

A small stone in the sidewalk caught Sam’s foot and he stumbled slightly. He felt Ylva tense her arm, giving him something steadier to hold on to, but neither one of them tried to step in and help him and Sam was absurdly grateful for that. So far, he was doing okay, but he was never going to learn from things if someone tried to step in and fix it all each time he messed up. The only way he’d learn was by practice.

The married couple kept up a steady, easy conversation as they walked, telling Sam about the town that they were in and what could be found here. The easiness of it all kept him relaxed and stopped him from worrying too much. He found himself wanting to slow his steps down sometimes, take it easier for fear of messing up, yet that only made it all worse. Eventually he seemed to get together a rhythm that made it all go a bit easier. Steady steps that weren’t too fast, weren’t too slow, and a nice swing of his wrist that sent his cane back and forth just as Jor had taught him.

Soon enough they reached the park and Fenrir was telling the boys to go and play while Ylva led Sam to a set of benches. It was embarrassing, but Sam had to admit to himself that he was grateful for the chance to sit down. His hip was starting to ache something fierce. As he sat down, he dropped his hand to rub a bit at the twitching muscles in his thigh.

“Sore?” Fenrir asked him, sitting down beside Ylva, who was sitting on Sam’s right.

The hunter shrugged one shoulder. “A bit.” Not as bad as it could be, thankfully.

Ylva made a soft humming sound that conveyed a bit of sympathy to it. “Don’t push yourself too hard, Sam. There’s no shame in needing to take a rest. Your body needs time to recover and build back up its strength.”

Yeah. Sam knew that, logically. It didn’t change how badly he wanted to push himself, though, and force his body back to the level it was supposed to be at. Bad enough that he couldn’t even see any threats around him. Being too weak to defend himself – it was terrifying and embarrassing. He was a hunter, dammit! A _Winchester_. He couldn’t let this get him down.

Sighing, Sam gave his head a small shake and pushed those thoughts aside. No one else was going to agree with him, he knew. They’d tell him that he absolutely shouldn’t push himself and should have no shame in needing to take his time. None of them mentioned the thing they all knew, though. The one that became terrifyingly clear as Sam’s body healed and the scar on his hip and leg turned into something thick and ugly on his skin. His hip and leg were never going to heal properly. Not without the kind of help that these guys were unable to provide. His body… it wasn’t going to be the same again. There were going to be scars, small cuts that he could add to the collection, and then bigger ones, like the ones on his back that only pained him sometimes, and this huge one. Even if Sam could see, he wouldn’t be able to hunt. He was going to be lucky to get to the point where his leg was pain free.

The sound of laughter drew Sam out of his depressing thoughts. Mentally, he scolded himself for thinking like that. Right now he was supposed to be out having a fun day with the boys. He was supposed to be practicing things, too. That couldn’t happen if he sat there and brooded.

With that in mind he turned his focus in the direction of the twins. Their lights were easy to find in the darkness. There were other lights around them, these softer and yet beautiful lights of human souls. But there was so much more, too. What little control Sam had learned of his senses seemed strained now that he thought about it. And once he thought about it, he couldn’t chase it away entirely. The noises, the smells, the taste of things in the air, all of it was so _much_. Sam drew in a careful breath and blew it back out. He felt the curiosity from those beside him and tried to give them a reassuring smile. “There’s so much… more, out here.”

“Ah.” Fenrir made a low sound of understanding, echoed by his wife. “Dad’s house is protected so things from outside are more muffled. It was his place, but he always tried to make sure all of us were comfortable there. A bit of soundproofing for me, the temperatures a bit warmer for Jorgy when he’s there, or a bit cooler for Hel when she comes by.”

The nickname ‘Jorgy’ had Sam laughing before he could stop himself. He tilted his head Fenrir’s direction, enjoying the warmth of the man’s light. “Jorgy?”

Fenrir’s grin was very easy to hear in his voice this time. “Oh yeah. You forget, pup – I’m the oldest. I remember the little shit when he was just a tiny little snake that would curl around my arm or slither through my fur. I don’t care how big he gets, he’s always gonna be my tiny little Jorgy.”

The image popped into Sam’s head of this giant wolf with a snake playing in its fur. Then he thought of a man, one as close as he could guess for what Fenrir looked like, with a snake wrapped around his arm and sliding up to rest on his shoulder. The idea of it was enough to have him snickering. Oh, God, to have been able to see that! It was hard to picture, especially since he knew Jor _now_ , not back when he’d been just a child. It felt kind of strange to even think of him that way. “What was he like as a kid?”

“Obnoxious.” Fenrir said immediately. There was a huff and a grunt – Sam smothered his smirk, knowing even without having to see that Ylva had just elbowed her husband – and then Fenrir was chuckling. “All right, all right. He _was_ obnoxious, but he was a good kid, too. Curious. He’s always been isolated, though. He’s never been a huge fan of people outside of our family. With strangers, he’d get cold and a bit hard. I know you’ve never seen his eyes, but no matter what form he’s in they’re pure snake, and that tends to freak people out.”

“I can imagine.”

“He was always good, though. Our Grandmother has always had a fondness for him, and she nurtured that good side of him.”

The word ‘grandmother’ threw Sam a little. He turned himself away from watching the lights of the kids and focused on the one that belonged to Fenrir. He knew his expression must’ve showed his surprise, because the two at his side started to laugh. “The legends don’t get everything right.” Ylva said, taking pity on him. She reached over and patted his leg lightly. “Loki’s kids all got their own areas as they saw fit, but they weren’t taken out and thrown down. Fenny wasn’t bound up by chains, either. Those were mostly stories told to scare and amuse mortals.”

“We’ve always been pretty close with our family. They’ve respected our choices, even when I decided to live near humans.” Fenrir added in.

For the next hour, Sam found himself entertained with stories of life in Asgard and what things had once been like for them. It was a lot of fun to listen to and Sam laughed more than he had in a long time. It felt – good. He was here with good friends who treated him like family, the sun was warm on his face, and the stories were easy and full of fun. Relaxing into the park bench, Sam smiled and just let himself enjoy the day guilt-free, at least for now.

* * *

Once the group was done at the park, they made their way towards town to go and eat like they’d promised the boys they would. Ylva told Sam on the walk there that the place they’d picked was a little diner where the boys would be able to get their ice-cream afterwards. It was somewhere she said Gabriel had taken them a time or two and they’d all loved it. Thinking of that made the visit a bit bittersweet in Sam’s mind. But it seemed to thrill the boys. They liked the idea of showing it to him.

Going into a new building was a whole lot different than navigating a sidewalk. Sam quickly discovered that when his stick knocked someone in the leg and the man turned around to snap “Watch where you’re going!” at him.

To their surprise, it was Skoll who stepped up at that remark. Though Sam couldn’t see, the little boy had his hands on his hips and was glaring up at the man while most of the people in the diner watched. “You leave my Afi alone. He _can’t_ watch where he’s going – his eyes are broken!”

“Yeah.” Hati chimed in belligerently. “It’s not his fault. You should learn how to be nice!”

Having said their piece, the two turned back to Sam and took hold of him carefully, the way their parents had taught them. “C’mon, Afi.” Skoll said. “We’ll show you where Farfar liked to sit.”

The whole way over there Sam had to fight to smother his laughter. He wished he could’ve seen the guy’s face after being scolded by two kids. When Sam slipped down into the seat that Hati carefully directed him to, he waited for Fenrir to take a seat beside him and then leaned in and murmured “Just how surprised did that guy look?”

“It was _great_.” Fenrir’s murmur was a low, growly rumble that vibrated the air between them, and it was full of a glee that made Sam smirk. “Both eyebrows up, mouth open a little, eyes a bit wide. He looked like someone slapped him in the face. And his girlfriend looked sort of smug while the boys dressed him down.”

Sam huffed out a soft laugh. “She’s giving him her own right now.” If he wanted to, he could’ve listened to it.

So far that’d been their only negative experience. Sam’s nerves had been the problem more than anything else. He couldn’t help how nervous he felt. Especially in here with all these different people. Fortunately for him, his companions seemed to know what to do. Fenrir was in the seat at Sam’s left and he settled in, one arm coming up to rest along the back of Sam’s chair. Then he began to speak. “All right. We’re back in the corner furthest from the door. Behind you is a wall with no windows, but to your right is a wall of all windows. There are three other booths after this one, with little wall dividers for privacy between them that are about a foot in width. To your left, we’ve got some open space before there’s a circular table and then after that is the long counter. The building is L-shaped, so the bar follows that shape and wraps perfectly with it. There are two more tables after this one, and then the strip between the bar and the wall is empty. That wall is all windows as well, allowing people to look inside. The bathrooms are over by the entrance. No one can get in or out without going through those doors, and we’re in perfect view of it.”

“The glass beside us isn’t too strong, either.” Ylva added in, either not noticing or just ignoring the way Sam was gaping at them. “The boys could easily break their way out of it if need be. It also looks out to open grass and then over towards the fountain at the center of town. No one can sneak up on us there.”

In short order they’d given him a good enough description of the building for Sam to feel somewhat comfortable in it, and they’d made sure he knew all exits and entrances as well as the risks at them.

Emotion welled up in his throat. He had to swallow a few times before he could mumble out a “Thank you.”

Fenrir lifted a hand and ruffled Sam’s hair, and his light gave a happy pulse that Sam equated with a smile. “No problem.”

“Don’t worry about it, Sam. We don’t mind.” Ylva said. Then her light pulsed as well, another smile, and she asked “Do you know what kind of ice cream you’d like?”

The twins started to battle over who got to tell Sam what kinds of flavors there were, and what they thought were the best, and Sam listened to it all with a steadily growing smile, relaxing back into his seat. He was safe here. Yes, he was exposed, but he was also protected, and he was surprised to find he trusted them enough to make sure that he stayed safe. Leaving his safety in their hands, he focused on the boys and their litany of flavors, his smile growing wider.


	8. Chapter 8

By the time the group finally got back from their adventure, Sam was exhausted, sore, and more than ready for a bit of relaxation on the couch or even in his bed. He was more than a little tempted to ask around and see if maybe there was a bathtub somewhere in this house that he might be able to go indulge for a while in. A good, hot soak sounded like it’d be perfect.

However, when they walked into the house, Sam was surprised to sense a presence he didn’t typically feel. Almost as soon as he did, he heard the sound of raised voices. Two people were shouting at one another. They were far enough away that Sam would bet they were in the backyard.

He heard Fenrir sigh beside him. “Ylva, sweetheart, why don’t you take the boys on home?”

Sam heard movement and then the soft sounds of a kiss. “Don’t worry about us, we’ll be fine. If you don’t make it home, I’ll come find you in the morning, all right?” She shifted around and then her voice changed, lifting for the boys. “Boys, tell your Far and Afi thank you for a good afternoon.”

“Thanks!” Hati said, while Skoll gave a cheerful “Thank you!”

Brief hugs were passed about before the three went back out the front door. Only when they were gone and the door was shut did Fenrir sigh again. He patted Sam’s shoulder gently, though gently for him was almost enough to shake the hunter on his feet. “I won’t blame you if you escape to your room.”

A furious shriek echoed in and made Sam wince. “What’s going on?”

“Hel and Jor.”

The way Fenrir said it was as if that explained everything. To him, it likely did. But Sam wasn’t sure what was going on and so he followed slowly after Fenrir. He wasn’t quite sure he wanted to know what was going on out here. It had the sound of something familiar, something between the siblings, and as much as they seemed to have adopted Sam into their family, he doubted they’d really want him around for this. Yet Fenrir had made it sound as if Sam’s presence was automatic, offering him an out like he’d just assumed that Sam was planning on following him. The idea was weird, yet it made Sam feel good.

When they reached the backyard the screech of voices became clearer, even if the words still didn’t make sense. Sam recognized that they were speaking in Norse. A very, very old dialect of Norse. It meant that he couldn’t understand what they were say. The tone, though? _That_ he understood. That was pure pissed off siblings in the middle of one hell of a fight.

Fenrir strolled right out into the middle of it without hesitation. “Hey!” The word was a loud, sharp bark, catching everyone’s attention and cutting off their shouts. “What in Odin’s name do you two think you’re doing screeching like banshees back here?”

Jor spat out something in Norse that had Fenrir going very still. Watching them all, Sam was sort of fascinated to see how their lights were changed with their tempers. Jor’s had been colder, deadlier, and so had Hel’s. The two were just a foot apart and he was sure they’d been close to blows. Fenrir’s, when he came out, had darkened a little like he was trying to mentally prepare himself. Now, though, it pulsed in something that made Sam think of shock.

“Say it in English, brother.” Hel snapped, her sneer easy to hear. “Are you so afraid of letting him know what’s going on? Is he that feeble minded that he can’t make his own decisions?”

Fenrir growled, low and dangerous. “Hel!”

“He shouldn’t _have to_.” Jor shot right back at her. He was hissing more than normal and it made Sam shiver a little to hear it. “Dad wouldn’t want this and you know it!”

“Who cares? He can be as mad as he wants – at least he’d be alive!”

This time it was Sam who was frozen. His whole body snapped taut. There was no way he could misconstrue those words. The meaning was clear. There was a way to bring Gabriel back and it somehow involved him. His hand clenched down on his cane and he strained his eyes as he looked at their lights. It was a habit he couldn’t quite break sometimes, like somehow he might be able to better see them if he just pushed himself. It never worked, yet he couldn’t stop it. “We can bring him back?”

“Yes.” Hel said, at the same time that Jor said “No!”

It was Fenrir who Sam looked to next. He was the one that Sam knew would give the clearest answers; right at the moment he was the one whose temper was the calmest. When Sam turned his way, Fenrir shifted and let out another of those quiet sighs, almost like he couldn’t help it. His voice was gentle when he spoke to Sam. It was the way he spoke to the boys when they were upset. “We don’t know. It’s not something that’s been done before, not like this.”

Shock was slowly starting to give way to anger. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

“Because there’s no telling if you’d survive.” Jor said sharply. “The ritual Hel wants to try would reach down into that bit of grace that Dad hid in your soul and it’d use it and you like an anchor to summon all the other little bits. There’s every chance you could explode as his grace pours into you. And I don’t care _what_ Hel says,” He turned here, Sam guessed to give her a nasty look, and then faced Sam once more. “We’re not sacrificing you to bring him back, Sam. We’re _not_.”

“Isn’t that my choice?” Sam asked. He could feel the way the men both tensed and he hurried to hold up a hand to stop whatever they were planning on saying. “I’m not saying I want to go out and get myself killed, guys. But I _am_ saying that I’m old enough to hear the risks of something and make my own decision on whether or not I want to do it.”

Hel let out a soft “Ha!” that was full of smugness. Then she lifted her voice to normal tones. “If there’s a chance that we could bring Dad back, shouldn’t we at least _talk_ about it instead of just dismissing it outright?”

Before anyone else could speak up, Fenrir’s voice rang firm and clear in the air around them. “No.”

“ _What_?” Hel and Sam both said. They turned towards him, each one shocked.

Fenrir stood his ground. “No. I know what ritual you’re talking about, Hel. There’s no proof it’ll work and the risk to Sam is huge. There’s too much that could go wrong, and there’s no way Dad would want you risking his mate for a _chance_. We’re not doing it.” When she tried to speak, he firmly told her “This discussion is over.”

With a low shriek of pure temper, Hel’s light vanished and Sam was left alone with both Jor and Fenrir. The hunter stood there for a moment and stared at the space where Hel just been. Then, without a word, he turned to walk away. Fenrir reached out to touch his arm, only to stop when Sam jerked back. “Sam…”

“I’m going to my room.” Sam said in a voice gone flat. He didn’t bother to turn and look, just kept his face turned forward. Anger burned at a low simmer in his gut. “I assume I’m still allowed to make that decision?”

“I’m sorry, Sam. I know you don’t see it, but I’m trying to look out for you. I really am.” Fenrir said softly.

Sam didn’t say anything else. Silently, he made his way inside.

It was childish, he knew, to snap like that and retreat inside. He was old enough to behave a whole lot better than that. But he was angry with them for speaking over top of him like he was no better than one of Fenrir’s puppies and incapable of making his own decisions. From the sounds of it this ritual was something that was dangerous, and maybe even something he’d refuse to do, but they’d taken that choice away from him. They’d taken away his right to even think about something and decide for himself what to do.

That thought made Sam’s anger grow as he hid out in his room. He was on his bed, aching leg resting, and his thoughts spinning round and round and just making him angrier and angrier.

Too many times in his life Sam had had people take away his choices for him. Sometimes it felt like someone was always trying to do it. Dad had done it through his childhood. Dean did it, if he was convinced it was better for Sam. Angels had done it. Lucifer. Crowley. The list went on and on in Sam’s mind. He’d thought that these people here weren’t going to be like that. That they wouldn’t just take away his choices from him. Sure, they were doing it under the guise of ‘it’s for your safety’, yet had he asked them to protect him? No!

Temper shifted inside of Sam, grew and firmed into something a whole lot more dangerous – determination. That determination had him sitting up on his bed and mentally calling out in a way he hoped worked. He had no idea if pagans heard prayers the same way that angels could.

He got the answer to that moments later when a light appeared in his room. Sam tilted his head towards it and watched as the light shifted and settled. “Sam.” Hel said his name slowly, unsure and a bit cool at the same time. “You wanted to speak with me?”

There was no time to beat around the bush. Sam wasn’t sure if the brothers would sense her presence in the house or if they’d try coming in here if they did. Chin up, he squared his shoulders and simply asked her “Will it work?”

She didn’t pretend not to know what he was talking about. “It’s our best shot.”

“Will it kill me?”

“I don’t know.” Hel admitted. She didn’t sound like she liked to say it, but she also didn’t lie to him, another point in her favor. “I can’t guarantee that you’ll survive. But I can promise to do everything within my power to make sure that you do.”

It wasn’t the best guarantee in the world, yet he knew it’d be the only one that he could get. And it was better than none. Everything within her power, Sam knew, was quite a lot of power. He had to decide if he was going to trust it. Did he trust it enough to try and get back the being that had left such an empty space in Sam’s life when he’d gone? _No_ , he thought to himself. _But does that matter? Either I get a life with him, a chance to try and build on what we’d been starting before, or I’m killed and I don’t have to live this half life as a broken hunter. There’s really no choice._

“I want to try.” Sam said.

No one felt their exit until it was far too late.

* * *

Where Hel took him, Sam had no idea. It took him a few moments after their landing for him to get his bearings back around him again. Instant travel was disorienting when you couldn’t see where you were going. It left Sam’s stomach lurching and his senses reaching out around him in an effort to try and figure out where he was. He could hear birdsong, wind, and the rustling of leaves. The smell around them was like a mix of a rainy forest and wet dirt. In the air was a hint of rain, the taste of it just on the tip of his tongue.

That was all the time Sam got to adjust to things. He’d just barely started to take note of things, to try and use his senses to map the area around him like Fenrir had taught him, when Hel’s hand was cupping his elbow and he was being moved forward across ground that was soft and uneven, making him stumble a little. “We don’t have much time.” She said bluntly, continuing to move him forward. When he stumbled again, she tightened her hold and braced him a bit more. “I had things ready before when I went to talk to my brother, so it’s all set to go, but I don’t know how long I can mask our presence here.”

There was something sort of terrifying about being led forward into the unknown with a person you weren’t quite comfortable with at your side. He didn’t think that Hel would actively hurt him or anything like that, but he didn’t really trust her either. Add in that he had no idea about the area he was in or what to even expect, and he didn’t have his sight stick, he was stumbling and fumbling along, one hand out in front of him like it was somehow going to help. “Hel, slow down. Where are we? And where are you taking me?”

“We’re in Iceland.” Hel said, startling him. “And I’m taking you to an altar. I’m sorry to rush you through this. I’d take the time to explain more, I would, but I don’t know how long we have before they find us, and the moon is at almost the perfect point in the sky. I can’t afford to waste time, I’m sorry.”

He was even more surprised to realize that she sounded like she meant it.

This whole thing felt sort of surreal. Sam let Hel guide him to an altar – an altar! – and help him up onto it. Once he was laying down, she put one hand on his chest and he felt the chill of it through his shirt. “Your part in this is easy, Sam. I just need you to lay here. You’re going to feel a chill, and hopefully not much else. I’m going to use my powers to reach down to that partial bond that you and Dad shared, the little piece of grace he left inside of you, and I’m going to use it to drag the rest of him back. I… I can’t promise it won’t hurt.”

“But you think it’ll work?”

“I have power over the dead, Sam. It’s part of who I am.”

That wasn’t really an answer and they both knew it. Hel could make no promises here. That should’ve terrified Sam. It should’ve been enough to send him running. Yet… he didn’t. He laid there and nodded his head.

The hand on his chest shifted and the fingers spread out until her whole hand was pressed flat to him. Even Sam’s enhanced hearing had a hard time picking up on the soft ‘I’m sorry’ that Hel whispered before she plunged him down into the ice.

Power exploded inside of Sam. Hers, his, they pushed and fought against one another, and Sam had no hope of winning. The ice took him over, sinking him deep down in its depths until he couldn’t breathe past it, couldn’t even _move_. It froze the blood in his veins, the air in his lungs – the beat of his heart. Sam wasn’t just full of ice – he _was_ the ice. It was agony like he’d only known once before.

Then, just when he thought for sure he was going to break and shatter into thousands of tiny pieces, a tiny spot of heat began to grow around his heart. It was just a speck, barely even there, only it started to grow. Bit by bit it grew inside of him. Sam wasn’t aware of the shouting going on around him or the furious storm that was pelting his body with icy rain. All of his focus was on this steadily growing bit of heat. It felt _wonderful._ Amazing. Safe. It chased the chill from his heart so that the organ was free to sluggishly begin to beat once more. The heat seemed to flare a bit brighter at that, like it was _pleased_ , and Sam felt it spread as it grew. It raced through him like liquid sunlight and chased the ice out of his veins. All the while it grew bigger and bigger until Sam swore it was in every inch of him, twining around him, pressing against his very _soul_ , and he should’ve recoiled in terror from that touch. He should’ve been terrified of anything touching against his soul, because he’d had it done before and he knew the agony that could be caused that way, just like he knew the scars that were already there would show that.

But this? This was… there were no words. He only knew he wasn’t afraid of it. Sam tried to lean in closer, to press against it and away from the last of the chill, and he swore he heard a low, melodic laugh as this wrapped round him.

Without warning the ice came back. It wrapped around Sam’s heat and _yanked_. Sam tried to fight it, to reach out for it, and he felt that heat reaching back for him, but the ice pressed even harder and there was a brief moment where Sam’s senses told him the two fought.

When the ice began to pull that heat out of him and Sam’s body once more began to freeze over, he cried out, the agony of it tearing at an already damaged soul. His cry echoed loudly through the air as the ice took him under and he had nothing more with which to fight.


	9. Chapter 9

Warmth was what Sam came back to. Wonderful, amazing warmth. Not just inside him this time but outside as well. Twin bands of it were wrapped around him and it was pressed up against the back of him in a way he recognized from when he’d once fallen into a frozen lake. Dean had laid with him like this afterwards to try and warm him up. Sam closed his eyes and smiled at the memory, instinctively snuggling back into that embrace, everything in him trusting in his brother.

The illusion was shattered when he felt the chill of icy power against his skin.

Only half awake and more than a little drained, there was no way for Sam to stop the memories that cropped up at the feel of ice cold power. His brain leapt to one place, one terrifying spot in his memories that he tried and failed to not ever think about, and his instincts took over. He launched himself away from the arms holding him. His left leg refused to hold him and the pain that shot through him was enough to steal away what little breath he had. Still, Sam scrambled across the soaking wet ground until he ran into something hard. It was just as cold as the rest and absolutely drenched, yet he plastered himself to it.

“Get back!” Someone snarled out, different than the one that Sam had been expecting. Then the voice changed, softening into a melody Sam swore he knew. “Sam, it’s all right. You’re all right. You’re safe here. It’s just me, gorgeous. Whoever you think you’re seeing, they’re not here. No one here is going to hurt you. Just open your eyes for me and you’ll see.”

Sam kept his eyes clenched tightly shut. He didn’t trust that voice, not yet, though something in him wanted to. But, it wouldn’t be the first time that _he_ had used people Sam trusted against him. He liked to play around and mess with Sam’s head as much as his body.

Off to the side came a pained sort of sound, like someone had been hurt. A second later he heard a strange voice – _you know that voice, you know who it is, pay attention! –_ speak up in a low, slightly strangled tone. “It won’t work. He… he’s blind.”

The power from the being in front of him pulsed angrily and Sam should’ve jumped back even further at that. He should’ve tried to jerk away or something. Only – he knew that power, and it wasn’t who he thought it was. It brought back different memories with it. Memories of laughing eyes and a mocking smirk. Memories of heat and warmth chasing away the chill that had enveloped him. Sam blinked open startled eyes, his gaze snapping to the brightest light he’d ever seen, more beautiful than any angel Sam had witnessed, and his breath shuddered out of him as the gold light arched upwards into great, awe-inspiring wings. Wings that were blocking the rain from falling down on him. Sam stared at that power, at the gold and the hints of green and something else running through, the pagan leaking into the archangel, and the fear he’d felt faded away. “Gabriel.”

Those wings shook in surprise and the light pulsed a bit. Then it leaned in closer. “Oh, thank Dad. Sammy.”

That was Gabriel. That was really Gabriel. The more Sam stared at him, the more the memories sank in. He knew who he was and where he was, now, and he knew who that cold had been. It wasn’t Lucifer – it was Hel. Hel, who had brought him here to help her, to bring her father back, and _they’d done it_. Gabriel was right here in front of him and he was _alive_!

Once more Gabriel’s light moved, drawing in closer, and then it paused and Sam was shocked when Gabriel asked him, “Can I touch you, Sam?”

The fact that he asked eased a little more of Sam’s tension. This had to be real – not even in his illusions did Lucifer ever _ask_ to touch him. When Sam nodded, Gabriel’s presence moved even closer. “Okay, I’m going to touch your arm, Sam.” The warning allowed him enough time to brace before warm fingers touched his arm, hesitant at first and then slipping up into a more sure grip. Sam sighed and leaned into the touch. That seemed to be all the permission that Gabriel needed. His other hand came up to join that one and then he slid one up Sam’s arm and around his shoulders so that he could pull Sam in. Once more, Sam found himself wrapped up in strong arms, only this time he knew it wasn’t Dean who was holding him. It was Gabriel. Gabriel was here, holding him, and Sam was safe now.

After a moment of lying there, his head against Gabriel’s shoulder, Sam found his voice enough to murmur “Sorry. Been a while since I’ve done that.”

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for. At least, not for this.” Gabriel said firmly.

Not for this? Then for what? Sam furrowed his brow in confusion.

As if sensing it, Gabriel sighed and pressed his cheek against Sam’s hair. “We’ll talk later about the fact that you were stupidly willing to sacrifice your life to bring me back.”

“Are you…”

“Reading your mind?” Gabriel filled in. He chuckled. “No. But you’ve got a pretty expressive face there, kiddo, and your emotions are almost radiating off you.”

It was hard for Sam to really care about that all that much at the moment. He closed his eyes again and let himself bury his face once more against Gabriel’s shoulder. It felt strange to think that he got to do this. That it was allowed. He and Gabriel, they’d never talked about what they felt, though it seems it’d been felt by both of them. Talking was the furthest thing from Sam’s mind at the moment, though. He just, he wanted to rejoice in the feeling of Gabriel around him and inside of him. There was a small kernel of warmth once more near Sam’s heart and he happily warmed himself on it while the rest of him soaked up the heat from Gabriel’s body.

That icy feeling came back and Sam tensed before he reminded himself that it was just Hel. It wasn’t Lucifer. “Dad.” Hel said in a low, hesitant voice.

Sam was surprised when Gabriel cut her off with a sharp “No.” The archangel paused and drew in a breath that he didn’t need, ruffling Sam’s hair as he did. His arms briefly tightened around Sam. “Trust me, Hel, I’ll definitely be speaking with you in a minute. But for now I’m going to make sure my bondmate is taken care of. We’ll deal with your actions afterwards.”

“Go easy on her. She just wanted you back.” Sam murmured.

He felt Gabriel snort. “That was no excuse for risking you.”

The simple way he said it made Sam smile. He’d only ever meant so much to two other people. One was his brother, and one was the archangel who’d wanted to wear him to destroy the world. Sam found he liked the feel of this a whole lot better.

* * *

It would seem that the ritual that Hel had done had called a lot of Gabriel’s grace to him, but not all of it. She and Gabriel had stopped the process when there was enough of him to count as alive and before it was too much and might’ve killed Sam. Because of that, he wasn’t anywhere near full power, but he was fully capable of flying them home. When Hel told him where home was, and that Sam was staying there with everyone, Sam doubted he imagined the happy little hum that echoed through Gabriel’s light.

The essence that made up Gabriel wasn’t just light and power like it was with the others. There was light and power, yes, twined together with the most beautiful melody that Sam had ever heard. It sat there, a faint hum on the edge of his senses, and it relaxed him to listen to it.

Much to Sam’s embarrassment, Gabriel had to help him up to his feet, and he had to help hold on to him so that Sam wouldn’t sink back down right away. Well able to feel his worry, Sam gave him a soft, sad smile. “It’s a long story.”

“I look forward to hearing it.”

Yeah, Sam highly doubted that. He kept that opinion to himself though as Gabriel, arm curled around Sam’s waist, flew them home.

They arrived in a house that was in the midst of panic. Voices were arguing all around them. Sam could recognize Fenrir, Jor, Kevin, even Ylva and the boys.

Discreetly, Sam let go of Gabriel and moved to the side, keeping himself back from the moment that was about to happen. They deserved a chance here to greet one another without anything else hanging over it. From the sidelines, Sam watched the lights in the darkness, all of them mixing and blending together, and he watched as Gabriel moved right into the middle of it and held out his hands, his smile easy to hear in his voice. “Talk about a welcome home party!”

If Sam had thought it was loud before, it was nothing compared to what came next. So many voices were talking all at the same time, shouting and laughing and crying. Sam smiled as all those lights blended together in a happy mess that was enveloped by beautiful golden wings. Gabriel embraced his entire family in that hold and laughed as they all tried to hold on to him as well.

It was Fenrir who broke the spell, his deep voice echoing around them as he asked “What happened to… _oh_.” There was a brief pause and then Fenrir’s voice was back, sharper, snapping out “Jor!”

Sam wasn’t really that surprised when Jor broke away from the others and quickly made his way over to where Sam was leaning. He caught Sam’s hand first, a warning sign that he was going to reach for the rest of him, and then he was bringing his other hand up to cup Sam’s cheek and slide up to feel his forehead. “As soon as I know you’re okay, I’m going to kick your ass.” Jor told him flatly. His thumbs caught under Sam’s eyes, pulling down and looking at whatever it was he was looking for. Then he pressed the back of his hand to Sam’s cheek. “You’re more than half drained and you’re shaking. We need to get you to bed.”

“I’m fine.” Sam tried to protest immediately. “I’m okay, really, Jor.”

Footsteps warned him in enough time to look over Jor’s shoulder and see Gabriel heading his way. “He’s right, Sam. What Hel did, it took a lot of your energy. You need to sleep.”

There was no denying that they were right. Sam felt like he was going to drop right where he stood. Only… the idea of moving away from everyone – _away from Gabriel, don’t try and deny it, you only care about moving away from him –_ left him feeling cold again and a bit shaky. Either he was projecting once more, or his thoughts really were showing on his face, because Gabriel stepped up and took Jor’s place, his hands cupping Sam’s cheeks gently. “Hey.” He stroked his thumbs over Sam’s cheekbones and his light gave a happy little pulse. “I’m not going anywhere, kiddo. You think I’m gonna walk away after all the effort you two put into bringing me back? Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t.” That warm spot inside of Sam flared up and a sense of joy and love drifted out from it that stole Sam’s breath away. Testing a theory, he sent his own back, and he heard Gabriel laugh lowly in front of him. “Yeah. Side effect of taking a half bonded pair and yanking one of them full of the other’s grace. Congratulations, _husband_. You’re mine now and I am never letting you go again.”

Before Sam could even think, he found himself yanked down into a kiss that he didn’t even try to fight. His hands came up, curling over Gabriel’s arms to brace himself, and he melted down into it.

At least, he tried.

He was just starting to lean in when the muscles in his hip protested everything he’d done to it. Pain shot down his hip, over his thigh, and into his groin, and Sam was suddenly collapsing for an entirely different reason. Luckily, Gabriel still retained his physical strength even with weakened grace. He caught Sam with a soft “Woah!”

“He needs a bed.” Jor said firmly, the doctor part of him taking over once more. He spoke with an authority that everyone usually listened to. It looked like Gabriel did as well. He scooped Sam up carefully, murmuring apologies when it made Sam cry out, and then he hurried off down the hall when Jor told him “He’s in your room.”

Part of Sam thought about that, trying to focus on it instead of how much he hurt. He’d been staying in Gabriel’s room? In Gabriel’s _bed_?

There were little footsteps close by as Gabriel gently laid Sam down on the bed. He felt the bed dip a little as little bodies hopped up. Before Gabriel could scold them, or Jor, Sam tilted his head towards the closest one and smiled. He felt the soft thing drop by his arm and knew what Hati had brought him. “Thanks, sweetheart.” Sam said, reaching for the small pillow. It was the one that he liked to use for neck support when he knew he was going to be stuck in bed for a while.

Skoll had another one that he dropped by Sam’s leg. He was nudging it forward. “Put this under Afi’s knee.” The little pup instructed his grandfather.

There was a little flash of surprise from Gabriel, both in his light and in this little warmth inside of Sam that he was realizing was their _bond_ , and then a happiness so wide it stole Sam’s breath away. “Don’t worry, kiddo, Farfar is gonna make sure your Afi is comfortable.”

“Good.” Skoll said firmly. He plopped his butt down on the bed and Sam could feel the slight shake that told him the pup was wagging his tail. “Afi doesn’t always take good care of his’self, so Mor says we gotta watch out for him.”

Laughter sounded in the room while Sam spluttered and stammered at them. The pups ignored it and Hati chimed in his agreement. “Yeah. You gotta watch _carefully_ , cause he tries an hides it. But he’s got that little line right there on his forehead, see? He gets that when he’s hurting and doesn’t wanna tell anyone. An he smells like wet firewood.”

“When he smells like an ice storm, or like really heavy rain, it means we’re supposed to go and get Far or Uncle Jor _right away_.”

Those words were enough to steal the breath right out of Sam’s chest. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why the boys would have to get help if Sam smelled like either of those. The earlier chill that Sam had felt came back to him and he shivered a little. In response, one of Gabriel’s golden wings came up and brushed over him, leaving a soothing trail of warmth in its wake.

His change in mood didn’t go unnoticed by everyone else in the room. To Sam’s surprise, Fenrir rounded everyone up and shooed them all out of the room. “C’mon, guys, let’s give them a bit of privacy and go make up something to eat.” When the boys tried to protest, he redirected them by promising, “We can go and make a big feast and set up in the backyard. I think a party is in order to celebrate your Farfar’s return, don’t you?”

That was enough to have the pups racing out of there. Ylva went next, pausing to kiss Gabriel’s forehead. Kevin left with her, comfortable with this little family here but definitely not sure about Gabriel. Jor went next, giving his father a hug first and then pulling back and telling him “Take it easy, the both of you. You’re both exhausted and you need to rest.” Then, with one last brief touch to Sam’s good leg, Jor was gone.

“He’s right.” Fenrir said, stepping up for his own hug with his father. “You both need to rest, Dad.” Then his light turned towards Sam a bit, and there was a gentle edge to it that he’d taken around Sam sometimes when he knew the hunter was really upset, the one that made Sam feel almost like another one of Fenrir’s pups. “Don’t push yourself too hard. I know you two need to talk, but if it gets too much don’t be afraid to speak up and say so. You two are back together now, and that bond means it’ll take a hell of a lot to tear you apart. Remember that.”

Something told Sam that Fenrir wasn’t reminding him of that just in reference to taking their time to talk. It was also his way of pointing out that Gabriel wasn’t going to go anywhere. If only Sam could be as sure about that. The things he knew Gabriel was going to ask him about, the things he’d have to say, he had no idea if the archangel was going to want to be around him afterwards. Just the thought of him leaving made Sam feel sick. He felt even more sick at the thought that _he_ would have to leave. These people here, they’d become his family. He didn’t know what he’d do without them.

The door shut behind Fenrir and the two of them were left alone for the first time since Gabriel had come back. Sam turned his head Gabriel’s direction and took a minute to just drink in his presence. The pain in his hip was still there, yet pushed to the back of his mind. He’d grown pretty proficient at doing that. Right at the moment he didn’t want to miss a single detail of the archangel sitting on the edge of the bed right by his damaged hip.

“So…” Gabriel drawled out the word, breaking the silence that fell between them. “I see you met the family.”

The grin he wore was easy to hear in those words. It drew out an answering one from Sam. “Yeah. They found me a little while back.”

“You guys seem to get along really well.”

“They’re amazing.” Sam said softly. They really were. “They’ve… they’ve been so nice. I don’t know what I would’ve done without them.”

He felt Gabriel’s wing brush over him again. “They care about you. The pups obviously love you.”

The feeling was mutual. Sam adored those pups with everything in him. Even on the days he was at his lowest, they never failed to make him smile, to help him keep on going. They were beacons of purity and hope in his dark world. A reminder that there were good things out there; things worth fighting for.

Sam felt Gabriel shift around on the bed and warm fingers brushed over his arm, stroking lightly up and down the skin. “I know we’ve got a lot of things to talk about.” Gabriel said slowly, the words kind of heavy in the air with all the things they had to say and all the emotions they’d yet to admit to. “I’ve got a thousand and one questions, and I get the feeling I’m going to hate most of the answers. I know we need to talk about this whole thing, too. Us. But…” Pausing, he sighed, and the sound was a lot heavier and showed more exhaustion than Sam had expected Gabriel to admit to around anyone, let alone around him. “Right now I just wanna lay here and hold on for a while.”

It was hard not to let himself gape at the archangel. This – this wasn’t the trickster he’d first met, or even the bitter archangel they’d dealt with. This was Gabriel, open and honest in a way that Sam had only glimpsed from him there at the end. The part of him that had really made Sam think there might be something between them someday. Gabriel wasn’t hiding right at the moment. He was showing Sam _him_. That gift wasn’t one that Sam was going to take lightly. Nor was the offer one that he wanted to pass up. “That sounds great.”

The two had to wiggle a little to get them both comfortable on the bed. Gabriel’s hands were gentle as they shifted Sam around until finally they were both in a position they liked. Sam on his back, his bad hip elevated a bit by a pillow and another one under his knee, and Gabriel was spooned up to his side in a way that still managed to make Sam feel sheltered and protected. That might’ve had something to do with the great big wings that curled protectively over them. Wrapped up in his archangel, Sam sighed, his body relaxing. The heat of Gabriel’s body right by his aching hip felt wonderful, and he really enjoyed the way that Gabriel leaned in to nuzzle against his neck. No human would’ve been able to do it. Sam’s shoulder against their throat would’ve choked them. Gabriel wasn’t human though.

There, wrapped up in safety and feeling whole for the first time in so long, Sam drifted off to sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

When Sam woke up, he found that he’d shifted a little in his sleep. Or, a lot. He wasn’t on his back anymore. Instead, Gabriel was the one on his back, and Sam was using him like a body pillow. It was a position he’d discovered could ease his hip sometimes if he had a nice, thick pillow under his knee to keep his leg up. It would seem that lifting that leg up to rest over top of Gabriel’s legs also worked. He had his left leg lifted up to rest on Gabriel, making his hip far less sore than it normally was when he woke, and his back wasn’t aching either. His arm was over the man’s stomach while his other was squished between them, and his head was on Gabriel’s shoulder.

Gabriel had his arm and wings curled around them both and seemed perfectly content with their sleeping position. He wasn’t asleep, either.

Neither one of them said anything for a while. They just enjoyed laying there together. It wasn’t until Sam moved, and winced, that their silence was broken. Gabriel noticed the wince, of course. He waited until Sam was comfortable again before he asked him “What happened to you, kiddo?”

Well, they were just going to jump right into this, weren’t they? Sam had thought maybe they’d talk about _them_ first. Seemed he was wrong. Really, though, he should’ve known better. Of course this was what Gabriel wanted to talk about first. Though it still scared Sam to think about, it didn’t seem as scary while he was lying here. “That’s a long story. How much… how much do you know?”

“I’ve only got some of my grace back, so I can’t check out everything yet, and I can’t crack into anyone’s heads.” Gabriel answered in just as low a voice as Sam. They were barely murmuring to one another, their voices soft enough that Sam knew a normal human probably wouldn’t have heard it. “Fen gave me a bit of a rundown, though.”

That explained the tension that Sam could feel inside their bond. The sorrow and grief that he felt. Gabriel knew. He might not know everything, but he knew enough. How was he going to react to it? Was he going to be angry? Upset? Would he be mad at Sam for making so many stupid mistakes?

The spiral of dark thoughts was cut off when Gabriel used his wing to drag Sam in even closer and he buried his face against Sam’s hair, breathing in like he was trying to drink in the scent of him. “I’m so sorry, Sam.” The apology was unexpected and it froze Sam in place. He found he could only lay there as Gabriel continued to speak into his hair. “I never wanted you to have to jump in, I swear. I hoped you’d find a way to trick him in or something. I didn’t want you to have to live through that, kiddo.”

Sam licked dry lips and tried not to let his emotions show in his voice. The backs of his eyes burned and his throat felt a bit tight, though. “I survived. Cas helped fix it. Most of the time, I don’t even think about it unless something brings it up.”

“From the sounds of it, he wouldn’t have had to fix it if he hadn’t broken things in the first place.” Gabriel growled out.

Ah. So Fenrir’s recap had covered all that, then. _Great_. “I’m not happy about it, but he did his best to make it right, and he helped us out in the end.”

The arm around Sam gave a gentle squeeze. “Fenny told me about Cas and your brother.”

There was no way for Sam to stop how he tensed at that. His eyes closed, a gesture that meant nothing anymore and yet was one he couldn’t really stop. Bad enough that he’d had to think of Lucifer, however briefly. He didn’t want to have to lie here and think of Dean. He didn’t want to have to go through that story and explain to Gabriel how many ways he’d messed up here and how his brother had paid the cost for it. Sam had gone through this in his head so many times already. He’d questioned himself over and over, wondering if maybe he would’ve done a better job helping Dean if he wasn’t just coming off being literally _crazy_. If Sam had done better, researched better, would Dean still be here? Would Bobby?

“Sam, _Sam_.” Gabriel carefully rolled their bodies until Sam was lying flat on his back on the bed and Gabriel was hovering over him. He placed one hand on the bed by Sam’s head to brace himself up and his other hand came up to cup Sam’s cheek. His light was glowing brighter than normal and it was like warm water rushing over and through him, washing away the pain. “Sam, listen to me. There’s a very good chance your brother is alive. Do you hear me?”

Sam’s eyes snapped open and he felt them go wide. “Dean’s alive?”

“I can’t be sure, but there’s a damn good chance. When a person dies, they go to Heaven or Hell, depending on what they are. Where do monsters go?”

It only took a second for Sam’s mind to be able to answer that. “Purgatory.”

He could feel Gabriel’s nod. “Exactly. That blast that took out the big daddy leviathan, it probably sent him back to purgatory, and whoever was standing close enough. I’m guessing that’s where your brother is.” He pressed his palm a little firmer against Sam’s cheek, cutting off any words he knew were about to be said. “I can’t go in there right now and get him, sweetheart, I’m sorry. I’m not strong enough yet. All I’d do is get them and potentially myself killed all over again. But I promise you, as soon as I get my grace back to full strength, we’ll sit down and build a plan. We won’t let our brothers stay in there any longer than we have to, all right?”

The open emotion that Gabriel was displaying here felt so out of character for him that it left Sam speechless. Though not as much as the words that he was saying. There was a chance that _Dean was alive_ and they might be able to bring him home! Sure, they were going to have to wait, give Gabriel time to heal a bit more, and Sam wasn’t stupid enough to think that would happen in just a few days, but they were going to be able to get to him! _Hang on, Dean. Hang on, Castiel. We’re pretty sure we know where you are and we’re going to come for you, I promise. We’ll come get you. Just hang on._

Sam licked lips gone dry and let out a shaky breath. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Gently, Gabriel leaned down, nuzzling their noses together.

When he pulled back, Sam stared up at him, not knowing or even caring what look was on his face. Whatever it was made Gabriel chuckle. “So I guess we’re having _this_ conversation now, hm?” The archangel said. He sounded amused, though. Sam held on to that.

“I just…” Pausing, Sam tilted his head, really wishing in that moment that he could see Gabriel’s face, see his eyes. “I don’t understand, I guess. I’ve, well, I’ve come to terms with my side of things. I’ve known for a while that there was, ah, something here.” God, it felt so awkward to be lying here like this and talking about these things with Gabriel. Part of Sam’s brain was still caught up in everything else and the other chunk was still in awe of the fact that Gabriel was alive! But, he’d promised himself plenty of times that, if he ever got the chance, he wasn’t going to back down from saying these things. Not again.

“You just don’t understand why I care so much.” Gabriel filled in.

Sam shrugged one shoulder. He was just a human, after all. One who had messed up so many times, broken the world, and whose soul he could only imagine was something that no archangel or even pagan god should want to put their essence anywhere near.

Snorting, Gabriel shook his head, and then he surprised Sam by leaning down and pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “You’re an idiot.”

“Gee, thanks, Gabe.”

“You’re welcome.” Pushing his hand up Sam’s cheek, he slid it into the hunter’s hair and used that hold to give a little shake. “I don’t have enough time to sit here and tackle every one of your self-esteem issues, Sammo. My kids are eventually gonna come upstairs looking for us, and there are other things I’d like to talk about before they get here. You’re mine, and you’ve been mine for a long time. I was just too damn stubborn to step up and say anything about it.” That hand in his hair tightened a bit and Gabriel pressed in, stealing another kiss. “I’m not anymore.”

That really shouldn’t turn him on as much as it did. Sam knew he should probably demand more of an answer, get more words to back this up. At the same time, the way that Gabriel growled out the ‘You’re mine’, how simply he said it, did more for Sam than a thousand prettier words. Maybe that was wrong and maybe he needed to talk to someone about this thing he had for going for dangerous beings who could kill him with a thought, but he actually felt his muscles relax down into the bed at Gabriel’s declaration.

The archangel gave a happy little purr at that and nuzzled in against the side of Sam’s face. “Good boy.” He murmured.

Okay, yeah, that _really_ shouldn’t have been as hot as it was. Sam licked his lips and lifted his hands, sliding them hesitantly over Gabriel’s hips. “N-Not a dog.”

“Nope.” Gabriel mouthed along Sam’s jawline, back to his ear, and he nuzzled into the spot right behind Sam’s ear that made him shiver.

Whatever else might’ve happened next was cut off when Fenrir’s voice came from right outside the bedroom. “I’m really not in the mood to see more of my parents than I need to, so would you two knock it off and get out here? The herds are getting impatient.”

A flush stole over Sam’s cheeks while Gabriel just threw his head back and laughed out loud. “Get outta here, pup! Give your old man some peace!”

“You can have all the peace you want in about three hours when we all go home for the night.” Fenrir called back. “For now, shut up, quit filling the damn house with enough pheromones to drive a guy crazy, and get out here.”

There was a grin on Gabriel’s face that Sam could feel. It felt kind of like the sun shining down on him. “Welcome to my crazy family, kiddo. Still sure you wanna stick around?”

“I’ve been putting up with them for weeks now. I’m sure I can handle it.”

Laughter echoed around them while Gabriel pulled himself carefully off of Sam. “Oh, Sammy, you aint seen nothing yet.”

* * *

To Sam’s surprise, Gabriel didn’t ask about Sam’s loss of sight, nor about his injuries. Sam wondered if maybe that had been a part of what Fenrir had caught him up on. He kind of hoped he did. The last thing that Sam wanted to have to go through was explaining to Gabriel what had happened with Crowley. Even hinting around Lucifer had been bad enough. That had been more hard for Sam than anything else, because that was a part of his life he liked to pretend sometimes didn’t exist. But talking about what had happened with Crowley—that was a whole different ballgame. Because Crowley was someone that Gabriel could still go after. Someone he could direct his rage towards. Sam had a feeling they’d see a lot more reaction out of that story than the one he’d been witness to about Lucifer. There’d likely be more than anger and that wealth of sorrow.

Either way, Gabriel said nothing about any of it as he helped Sam up off the bed, or as he handed over Sam’s sight stick. He kept close to Sam’s side on the way out of their room without crowding him, too. He didn’t push into Sam’s space or try to lead him or anything like that. Either this family was extremely considerate about people’s disabilities, or they’d had experience with the blind before, because all of them were really great at handling things. They knew ways to help Sam without him feeling like he was being babied, or like he was incapable of doing anything.

As soon as the two reached the backyard, little familiar rockets of light came shooting forward and Sam felt himself smile as they collided with Gabriel. The twins were talking a mile a minute, easily held in Gabriel’s arms, and it didn’t seem to matter when they talked at the same time or when they finished one another’s sentences, Gabriel had no issue whatsoever listening to them, and he seemed happy to do so.

That left Sam free to make his way over to where he could sense the others. Ylva’s voice called out to him as he started to get close. “We brought a picnic table out, Sam, about ten steps in front of you and two to the right.”

He adjusted himself accordingly and made his way over to them. Jor’s hand was there when Sam reached them, and he didn’t force himself on Sam but he did cup his elbow, helping to brace him a little as Sam sank down onto the edge of the bench seat, his left leg carefully stretched out. As he settled in his hand was already going to rub at the aching muscles.

“Still bothering you?” Jor asked him. He squatted down at Sam’s side, one gentle hand landing beside Sam’s, just lightly pressing against his thigh.

Sam shrugged. “A bit.”

He didn’t bother asking how bad. Pain scales never worked for Sam. Even he could recognize that his own pain scale was messed up after his time in the Cage. Things that probably should register as bad for him, didn’t, while sometimes things that probably shouldn’t bother him were so all consuming he had a hard time thinking past them.

“Hm.” Jor’s hand skated carefully over Sam’s thigh and hip before finally dropping down. He pushed up to his feet and stood over Sam, looking down at him. “You should rest it a while longer. Keep off it as much as you can. Whatever you did to it, you tweaked the muscle pretty well. A warm bath would help, too.”

“I’ll make sure he gets one.” Gabriel said. He came strolling up behind Sam, making his footsteps clearly noticeable, and Sam didn’t even flinch when Gabriel’s hand settled on the back of his neck. Fingers played through his hair and made Sam smile.

The twins came running up then and Sam had to twist a little to be able to open his arms up for them. They came up on his right side, knowing better than to jump at his left, and they scrambled up onto the seat next to him before Gabriel could get a chance to sit down. Skoll, ever the more physically bold one, climbed right into Sam’s lap, the fact that they were in human form making it easier for him to actually climb up and curl in. “I’m glad you’re home, Afi. We got worried when you left.”

“Yeah. Far was _mad_ and he kept growling all over the place, and Uncle Jor said _a lot_ of bad words.” Hati said.

Sam tried not to wince. Yeah, he didn’t imagine the others were all that happy with him. Almost feeling their stares, Sam ducked his head a little, letting his hair come down to shelter his face. He kept his face turned in the direction of the boys, though, and smiled at them in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. “Well, I’m home now, and so is your Farfar. That’s all that matters.”

The hand on Sam’s neck gave a warning squeeze. Very lightly, so soft he wasn’t sure anyone else heard it, Gabriel murmured “Like hell, kiddo.”

Fenrir didn’t seem to have the same issue loudly voicing his opinion. “I told you before, Sam, you matter, too.”

“He’s right.” Jor said. He was slipping down into a seat on the opposite side of the table, and Sam swore he could feel that sharp glare he was getting. “This was a stupid risk. You ignored us and risked your life after we specifically told you not to…”

Now wait just one damn minute. Sam sat up straighter, a glare settling onto his own face. “Excuse me?” He interrupted. His tone was sharper than they’d ever heard it before and the surprise of it silenced Jor. Even the twins stilled where they were pressed up against him. Sam kept one arm around Skoll and the other loosely around Hati, trying to make sure they both knew he wasn’t annoyed with them, but he kept glaring towards the other brothers here. “You two might be older than me, but the last I checked that didn’t automatically give you rights over my body and my decisions. You don’t have to approve of the choices I make, but don’t think for one single second that you get the right to veto those choices and impose your will over mine.”

“This could’ve killed you, Samuel!” Jor exclaimed. “What, were we supposed to just sit back and tell you, oh, okay, go ahead and kill yourself with this, it’s no big deal?”

“No. You were supposed to sit down and talk it out like rational adults instead of screaming at your sister over it and then ordering me not to do anything.” Sam shot right back. He tried to keep his voice level, conscious of the little body against his. They shouldn’t be having this argument with the boys here. They really shouldn’t. Yet he couldn’t quite keep the words locked behind his teeth now that Jor and Fenrir had started this, so he had to settle for making his tone as flat and even as possible. “You argued about it in a language that I don’t speak, and then instead of taking the time to explain to me what was going on and what the risks were, you decided all on your own that they were too great and you forbid me from doing it. Hel at least gave me the respect of bringing the idea here in the first place, and explaining it to me later.”

“Because you saying yes is what fit into her plans.” Fenrir pointed out.

Sam shrugged one shoulder. “It doesn’t matter. She did what neither of you were willing to do. Maybe if you’d taken the time to sit down like rational adults and explain things to me, I would’ve been more aware of what was going on and better able to make an informed decision. Not that I think my answer would’ve been any different, but it was still my body and my decision to make.”

“As much as I’m going to hate saying this, especially about this – He’s right.” Gabriel said. He was still standing behind Sam and his presence was an anchor and a support. He pressed up against him, his hands slipping to rest on Sam’s shoulders, and presumably he looked at his children. “I hate the risk he put himself in, an I’m plenty pissed about how it all went down, but from the sounds of it, neither of you went about this right, either. This was his body and his choice. You can’t forbid a human from having free will over their own body – you especially can’t do it with a Winchester. That’s the quickest way to get them to do it anyways.”

The snarky words had Sam shooting a bitch face up at the archangel, which just made everyone chuckle.

“Are we done being mad?” Hati asked, leaning in to Sam’s side.

Chuckling, Sam bent and pressed a kiss against Hati’s hair. “Yeah, buddy, I think we are.”

Skoll shifted around in Sam’s lap and reached up to pat his chest. “Does that mean Auntie Hel can come now?”

Eyebrows lifting, Sam tilted his head back up towards the boys. Hel wasn’t here? Easily reading the look on his face, Jor said “She wasn’t sure she’d be welcome.”

The weight behind Sam vanished abruptly and he smiled to himself, able to feel the love and annoyance in the bond. He had no doubt what Gabriel was about to go do. Still smiling, Sam turned to kiss Skoll’s hair this time. “Looks like your Farfar went to go and get her for you.”

“Then why don’t we get the table set so dinner’s ready when she gets here?” Ylva said, speaking up for the first time since the argument had begun.

While they moved to do that, Sam looked around the yard at the lights he could see, finally noticing that one seemed to be missing. “Where’s Kevin?”

“He’s still in bed.” Fenrir said. “Dad coming back kind of threw him for a loop. Gave him a killer headache, too, so Jor had to knock him out for a while. Dad said it’s something to do with prophets needing to be protected by archangels and him blasting back to life, and the prophet in Kevin recognizing that. He should be fine by morning.”

Oh, good. Sam made a mental note to go and check on his human friend in the morning. While he and Kevin didn’t really talk a whole lot, they did talk sometimes, and he knew that Kevin and Jor talked plenty, almost as much as Kevin and Hel. Sometimes Sam got so caught up in his own troubles and his own recovery that he tended to forget about Kevin, or about anyone else, really, until they were right there. He’d been trying to get better about it but it was slow.

By the time that Hel and Gabriel returned just fifteen minutes later, the table was almost overflowing with food, and everyone was just starting to take their seats around it. Gabriel wasted no time in joining them. “Oooh, yum! I’m starved!” He dropped down onto the bench seat at Sam’s side and instantly started to reach out for some food.

Sam chuckled and couldn’t help but shake his head. “You don’t even need to eat.”

“Sure I do!” Amusement echoed down the bond to Sam. The sensation was still so new, something he was going to have to get used to, that it left him in awe, yet he couldn’t stop smiling.

For every dish that Gabriel brought to himself, he held it out to Sam and said what it was, making sure he was able to reach the handle and serve himself okay. He didn’t try and do it for him, though Sam probably wouldn’t have minded this time. It was all a bit of a mess here and he was getting just a bit mixed up with all the talk that was going on around the table. He managed to do it, though, and got his dinner served. It wasn’t as much as he once would’ve eaten, but he didn’t do anywhere near as much anymore, and his stomach wasn’t quite settled even after his nap.

Conversation around the table went almost nonstop. The kids caught their father up on all the stories that he’d missed while he was gone. Though Hel was a little slow to join at first, by the time they were preparing to move on to dessert, she was just as animated as the others. They told Gabriel about every positive thing that he’d missed, stories that were full of smiles and laughter. It was the perfect counter to the chill that Sam still felt inside. The warmth of all of this chased it away. He felt really good sitting there with these people that had become like a family to him, a wonderful and amazing family, and with Gabriel snuggled comfortably underneath his arm. The archangel had arranged himself there about halfway through the meal and Sam had just shrugged before continuing to eat one handed.

He knew that Dean would probably be going insane if he were here. Not just from the kids, though he’d have a lot to say about Fenrir and Jor, Sam had no doubt, but because of Sam and Gabriel. He’d be the first to point out that the two hadn’t known one another really well, had never even dated or done more than flirt and talk a little, and he’d point out the ways that Gabriel had ‘screwed us over, Sammy!’ as a reason why Sam shouldn’t trust him now. Yet… Sam did. He did trust Gabriel. The bond inside of him made that easy.

The bond wasn’t a trick, Sam knew. Just like he knew Dean would think it was. He’d assume that Gabriel had somehow done this all on purpose. Sam knew that he hadn’t. There’d been a partial bond in place, a bit of Gabriel’s grace already in Sam’s soul – and at some point he was going to ask how and why it was there – and if that was all it took to make a partial bond, it made sense that filling Sam with Gabriel’s grace by essentially magnetizing the bit in Sam’s soul to draw the rest in would fully cement that bond.

Having it there inside of him let Sam feel what Gabriel was feeling. The longer it was there and the more they settled, the stronger it seemed to grow, giving Sam clearer and clearer readings at what Gabriel was feeling. The love he felt for his children, the joy he felt at being back, and the absolutely amazing love that seemed to fill him when he would lean into Sam or look up at him, all wrapped up in a protectiveness and possessiveness that Sam enjoyed more than he’d known he would. It felt good being here with Gabriel. Right. And as stupid as it might be or as naïve as Dean would say he was being in trusting him, Sam was just going to enjoy it.


	11. Chapter 11

Once dinner and dessert were done, Gabriel conjured up drinks for them and the adults all moved to sit on the ground instead. Sam was more than grateful for that. The hard bench had been killing his hip. Sitting down on the soft grass allowed him to lay back against Gabriel, a pillow lifting his bad hip up off the ground while the archangel held him at just the right angle that Sam was able to relax. He relaxed even more when the two boys shifted into pups and curled up in a puppy pile between Sam’s legs, one of their necks resting over his calf.

The sight made Ylva and Fenrir both laugh. Even Hel chuckled a little from her perch on a lawn chair. “The boys really love you.” Hel commented.

“Oh they’ve fully adopted their Afi.” Ylva said teasingly, making Sam flush a little.

Fenrir let out a pleased rumble. He took a seat off to Sam’s left, shifting into his own wolf form while his wife did the same, the two of them cuddling up together. “They’re protective, too. You should’ve seen them rip into the guy who got snarky when Sam accidentally caught him with his cane.”

Heat filled Sam’s cheeks and he ducked his head down a little. He heard Jor laugh as he dropped down into one of the other lawn chairs they kept around. “You knocked someone with your cane?”

“It was my first time out in public like this, all right?” Sam defended himself. “I was bound to make a few mistakes!”

The arms around Sam drew him in just a little closer and one of Gabriel’s hands started to lightly trace a pattern on Sam’s stomach. He’d slipped the hem of Sam’s shirt up just a bit so he could get to skin, and Sam knew he should probably stop him, only he was really, really full, and that touch felt good. Gabriel’s gesture was easy and relaxed, as was his tone, yet Sam felt the tension inside of him that said it was all for show. “First time out in public, hm? So… I take it this hasn’t been a thing for long.”

“You didn’t tell him?” Fenrir and Jor both said at the same time.

Flushing, Sam ducked down a little, his body trying to instinctively curl in on itself. “I wasn’t sure how much you guys told him.” Sam said defensively. “Besides, we were a bit busy discussing the other crap events in my life. I hadn’t gotten around to this one yet.”

The bitterness and pain in Sam’s tone had Gabriel briefly flattening his palm over Sam’s stomach and sending him a wave of comfort and affection down the bond. The emotion eased some of the knot in his stomach. He closed his eyes and tried to relax himself down into the man behind him – his mate. It wasn’t working, though. His whole body was alight with the pain and fear and self-hatred that he usually tried so hard not to think about. What was he thinking, sitting out here with them like this? Like he was somehow going to magically be allowed to stay now that Gabriel was back. The kids, they’d all put up with Sam’s crap for a while, even helping him out, but would that continue now that Gabriel was here and they’d fulfilled their promise to him? Would _Gabriel_ even want anything to do with him anymore? He wasn’t the same person he’d been when Gabriel left. He was broken now. Broken in ways it was becoming increasingly obvious there were no ways to fix.

That was enough to have him actually pulling up and away from Gabriel’s hold. “I want to get up.”

“Sam…”

“I want to get up.” Sam’s voice was sharper this time in a way that made it clear he wasn’t kidding around. He didn’t want to sit here anymore. He didn’t want to be out here anymore. Who had he been kidding, staying here like he belonged? Like he had the right?

Fenrir and Ylva got the puppies off of his legs for him and Jor was there to help Sam to his feet. As soon as he was upright, Sam jerked away, not wanting to be touched right now. “Which direction is the house?” He was too turned around right now to remember where he was or which way to turn to get him to the house.

“The barbecue is two feet straight ahead, and the back porch is about a forty five degree angle from where you are now.” Jor said, giving him just enough of his bearings for Sam to be able to turn and head towards the house, his stick tapping away ahead of him.

Behind him, he heard Gabriel rise as well, and he heard Fenrir stop him, warning him in a low voice to, “Be gentle with him, Far”

Sam didn’t really care. He made his way into the house and straight down to his bedroom. _Not my bedroom,_ he thought to himself as he stepped into the room. This wasn’t his bedroom. This was _Gabriel’s_ bedroom and Sam had absolutely no right to be there. No right at all. Gabriel would recognize that as soon as he realized just how broken Sam really was. He already knew some – he knew about the hell memories, and likely about Sam going crazy, and he also knew that Castiel had taken the crazy. Still, it was likely he didn’t know just how many of those memories remained. He didn’t know how haunted Sam still was by the archangel he would never be able to forget. Add that in with, with all _this_? How could Sam expect anyone to want to keep him around?

He was still standing in the middle of the room when he felt Gabriel’s presence reach the door behind him. Sam kept his back turned, both hands curled around the black grip at the top of his cane. It wasn’t made to hold his weight, so he fought not to lean on it.

Gabriel was going to say something, Sam could sense it. The bond, his hearing, _whatever_ , he could just tell that the archangel was going to speak, and Sam knew if he spoke it was going to break the hunter. He’d spin around and beg and plead for Gabriel not to send him away. To try and hold on to at least some sense of dignity, Sam hurried to speak before Gabriel got the chance. Apparently his sharing for the day wasn’t done; he was going to have to spill it all, lay himself out bare. “Crowley showed up right after Dean and Cas vanished.” Sam tried to make his voice as flat and even as possible. He didn’t talk about this. Even with Ylva, he didn’t talk about this. “He took Kevin so he’d have a prophet under his control, and he took me because he wanted to screw with me.” _I won’t kill you. But by the time I’m done, trust me, you’re never going to hunt again._

The words sent a shiver down Sam’s spine. He clenched his hands tighter on the cane and tried to rush his next words out just to get this all over with.

“I don’t have any idea how long he had me, or all the things he did. I don’t care. He didn’t hurt me the entire time, but it was pretty consistent. He wanted to ruin any chances of me being able to hunt again.” A bitter sounding laugh slid past Sam’s lips. “He succeeded at that. Most of his torture was internal, using his powers to make it hurt, but he had a cursed blade he liked to play with. That’s why my hip won’t ever work right again. Some days, just walking on it is painful, and moving it the wrong way can be agonizing enough that Jor has to give me a shot to knock me out. It’s likely I won’t ever be able to run again. Though, running blind probably wouldn’t be smart anyways.” Lifting one hand from his cane, he gestured at his face, even though he knew Gabriel was behind him and probably couldn’t see the gesture. “Jor hasn’t been able to figure out what exactly Crowley did, so we don’t have any idea how to fix it. My sight’s just… gone. My powers kicked in enough to help me. All my senses are enhanced, and I can see the energies around a person. Their soul, their magic, whatever it is that makes them who they are. Which gives me _some_ version of sight.”

Sam turned himself slowly, eyes locked on the version of Gabriel that he could see. He let his eyes drift over the amazing being in front of him. All that light, compacted down into this tiny space and yet so much more, so much stronger and amazing. Sam stared at it and wished that, just for once, he could hold on to something this good and pure.

“It’s likely I won’t ever see again, Gabriel.” Sam said softly. The anger and tension from before was gone. Now he just sounded, defeated, and tired. So very tired. “I won’t see, I won’t be able to hunt. Some days I’m barely able to make it from the bed to the couch. I have nightmares that make me wake up screaming sometimes, and I can’t get too cold without being convinced that Lucifer is around. Cas took the crazy out of my head, but he couldn’t take all the memories, and they crop up at the crappiest times. I’m broken, Gabriel, in so many damn ways. I’m not ever going to be that guy you knew again.”

He watched Gabriel’s wings curl in for a second and then lift, stretching out towards him in a way the bond inside of him wanted to respond to, singing to life inside of him.

“I don’t need you to be a hunter.” Gabriel took a small step towards Sam, the power around him steady and strong, not wavering an inch. “I can keep us safe from anything that comes after us. I don’t care if you can’t run, or if you can’t get up out of bed.” Another step, bringing him in closer. “Archangel, remember? I’ll fly you out to the living room, or to wherever you want to go. I’d push you around in a wheelchair if that was what you needed, kiddo, without hesitation.” Another step. “I don’t care if you have nightmares, either. I’ll talk you through it afterwards and hold you as long as you need.” Another step. He was getting closer, now, and Sam could feel himself starting to shake with each word Gabriel said. They were backed by emotion in their bond, filling Sam up with so much _love_ it was humbling.

“I don’t care about how many scars you have, or how damaged Crowley made you.” Gabriel said. “You’re still gorgeous, Sam. You _survived_ , that’s what those scars tell me, and I’ll love them just as much as the rest of you because of that.” Another step, and this one brought him right in front of Sam, their bodies just inches apart. His wings were lifted now and curling around Sam until the whole world felt like it was wrapped up in that gorgeous, gold light. He reached up and caught Sam’s face with both of his hands. His hold was gentle yet firm, making sure that Sam was going absolutely nowhere. “And I don’t give a _damn_ if you can’t see. You’re not broken, you giant idiot, and I don’t need you to be the guy I knew before. You think I’m the same? You think getting stabbed by _my own brother_ didn’t change me? I’ve changed countless times during my existence, and I’ll change countless more, and you know what? So will you. I’m not going to run off just because you’re different than you were. I’m going to be right here with you, enjoying every moment of getting to know the new you, do you hear me?” He pulled Sam down and stretched himself up until their foreheads pressed together and their breaths were mingling. “I’m not walking away from you, Sam Winchester. I’ve wanted you for a long time, and I’m now that I’ve got you, I’m not giving you up.”

How was Sam supposed to say anything to that? His throat was tight with emotion and he knew his eyes were shimmering with the tears he couldn’t hold back. No one – no one had ever loved him like that. No one had ever seen the darkest parts of him the way that Gabriel had, seen him fall so fucking low, right to rock bottom, and still given a damn about him. Gabriel had seen Sam rise and fall over and over and he still wasn’t running away. He was staying here, right here with him.

“Don’t go.” Sam whispered. He hadn’t realized that he’d dropped his cane, but his hands were holding tight to Gabriel’s jacket now, fingers twisted into the fabric like he was going to physically force him to stay here.

Gabriel snorted, the sound so out of place in the quietness of their moment. “Didn’t you listen to a word I just said?” His hands firmed on Sam’s cheeks and held him perfectly still. “Listen to me and listen well, Winchester. _I’m not going anywhere._ You got it this time? I’m staying right here with you. We’re bonded, _husband._ That means you’re stuck with me.”

A laugh bubbled up that Sam didn’t try and fight back. This wasn’t at all what he expected yet he wasn’t stupid enough to walk away from it. If Gabriel wanted to try and stick around, Sam wasn’t going to stop him. Not when it was exactly what he wanted as well.

Feeling so much lighter, he smiled down at Gabriel, at his mate. “Sounds good to me.”

The End (For Now)

 


End file.
